


Made of Honor

by CrazyKitCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Happy Ending, Harry Potter References, Implied Relationships, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Oral Sex, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Romance, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Rough Sex, Unrequited Love, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 18:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyKitCat/pseuds/CrazyKitCat
Summary: Always shy of commitment, Harry lives as a serial dater. His best friend, Hermione, has wanted to marry and now has found Mr. Right — just as Harry realizes he really loves her. When she asks him to be in her bridal party, Harry seizes the opportunity to destroy the wedding and woo her himself. T-rating available on Fanfiction.net





	1. Halloween 1995

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HarmonyAtTheMovies](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HarmonyAtTheMovies) collection. 

> This piece was written for Harmony & Co’s Harmony at the Movies: A Film Fest. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my beta, LaBelladoneX, and my alpha, Kirachan3. This would not have been possible without their amazing help! They are goddesses on Earth!  
AlexandraO gets a thousand kudos for my beautiful artwork! I may have designed the ring in the picture, but she did the rest!
> 
> BACKGROUND: Wizarding World universe, but no war during Harry’s time. It ended with the Marauder’s generation. This was obviously based on the 2005 film, but I have mixed and matched a lot of dialogue and scenes for my story purposes. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Just to be clear, I try to be as faithful to canon as I can for my AU stories. I never write anything unless I've thoroughly gone over the background and plot. Since Tom from the movie, Made of Honor, is so different than Harry in the books and movies, I went off the dynamic of the scene from the Order of the Phoenix film for their personalities — specifically the scene where Hermione tells him Romilda likes him because he's famous and Harry says, "But I AM the Chosen One" and she whacks him over the head with a bit of parchment. That’s their friend dynamic for this story.
> 
> Harry may seem a little OOC, until you consider how drastically different his upbringing was. I just tried to think what any kid raised JUST by the Marauders would be like: Smart and kind from Remus, man-whore from Sirius, and a little cocky and Quidditch/prank-focused from James.
> 
> Because the war ended when James stabbed Voldemort with an antler, Harry never saved Hermione from a troll in their first year. They’re housemates, but they don’t become good friends until their altercation during their fifth year. As adults, Harry believes he’s very content in his playboy ways and honestly thinks Hermione is happy too. What he doesn’t realize is that, being faced with an ideal marriage every day, Hermione longs to have one for herself.

If anyone was looking for Harry James Potter on Halloween, they would find him outside of the library setting up — what he believed would be — a prank worthy of his father and _ his _ friends, the Marauders. It was brilliant, simply because it was so simple.

Everyone seemed to overthink pranks these days. The previous week his fellow fifth years, Ron and Seamus, had sprung a portable swamp on him when he had been chatting up sixth year, Cho Chang. It was so over-thought, and had taken him four showers to get the odour out of his hair. Fortunately, Harry had a few original ideas of his own for revenge.

He knew that Ron and Seamus were trying to finish a Potions essay, but they would never allow themselves to be late for the delicious Hogwarts Halloween Feast. The last thing they’d be expecting was to be pranked by the oldest trick in the book while ensconced in the quiet library.

Harry quickly finished balancing the bucket of ice water over the door frame to the library entrance, peering through the crack to see his friends packing up their belongings. Perfect timing. He quickly flicked his wand and sent a silent _ Bombarda _at Ron’s inkwell. As predicted, it exploded and covered both boys in black ink.

The identical look of surprise on their faces was so priceless, Harry let out a bark of laughter. Both Gryffindors zeroed in on him and glared daggers.

“Potter!!!” They roared simultaneously.

“You’ll pay for that, Harry!” Ron hollered.

“You’d better sleep with both eyes open!” Seamus threatened as they both moved towards him.

Their progress was immediately halted by an enraged Madam Pince.

“_And you _ had better not be planning on leaving my library without properly cleaning up this mess first!” She practically snarled at the two Gryffindors. “You may kill Master Potter _ after _ you’ve cleaned up… _ wandlessly _.”

If Harry didn’t know the two boys for being two of his closest friends, he might have felt bad when they sent him a stink eye. In his defense, they had permanently ruined his chances with Cho.

He was so absorbed in reveling in their mild misfortune, Harry had missed seeing the witch two tables away from them packing up her own bags.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Madam Pince,” Hermione Granger smiled at the librarian as she placed her hand on the door to leave. Harry’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Hermione! Wait!” His warning came seconds too late as she pushed the door open and was greeted by an icy shower, accompanied by a painful thud of something hitting her on the top of her head.

Feeling like a rapidly drowned rat, Hermione did the first thing she could think of — she yelled.

“Harry Potter! You devil! Fiend! Look at what you did to me! And my books!” She lamented, realising her bag was as soaked as she was. “Be a man and show yourself you… you… you gutless swine!”

Harry winced.

Hermione was well-loved by professors for being the ideal student. Always top of their class, she had made a reputation for always following the rules.

That didn’t mean she didn’t break a few harmless ones along the way. While _ prefect _ Hermione Granger was the prime example of an exemplary student, _ Gryffindor _ Hermione Granger had a slight rebellious streak.

She was also well-loved by everyone in their house for being loyal and slightly motherly to her peers. She made sure that Quidditch players were up-to-date with their homework and was always available to tutor the younger students. 

Hell, Harry’s ring of dorm mates owed her for helping them pass their end of year exams. He knew that Seamus and Neville would have failed if not for her assistance.

“Sorry, Mione,” He apologized as he walked around the corner. “To be fair, that _ was _meant to help those two clean up before dinner.”

“Oh, well, that’s just fine then.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Your intentions were noble so there’s no crime committed, is that it? Twenty points from Gryffindor for disturbing the sanctity of the library.”

“_What _?”

“It makes sense,” Hermione smirked as she cast a drying charm over herself and a stasis charm on her bag. “Ten points per crime. Ink pot and water bucket.”

“But Ron and Seamus—”

“—already had points taken from Gryffindor for their swamp last week while _ you _ were cleaning up,” Hermione dismissed. “They also have to serve detention every Sunday evening for a month.”

“A _ month _?” Harry protested. “But Ron’s supposed to be at Quidditch—”

“They alternate detentions, Potter.” She rolled her eyes again — a habit acquired from dealing with the likes of Harry Potter. “While they both deserved to be punished, not even I want to hear Pansy Parkinson gloat about Slytherin winning the Cup. The only way that _ won’t _ happen is if Ronald gets more time on the pitch.” She sniffed. “Although, if your only concern is winning the Quidditch Cup, you really need to sort out your priorities!” She glared at him before storming off in a huff.

“I have goals outside of the Quidditch Cup!” Harry protested as he followed her. “I have plans! I’ve been looking into professional Quidditch teams. I’m planning on buying and managing the Chudley Cannons after school. I have a full plan on how to turn their losing streak around by rebooting them! If you want, you could come up to my room and I could show you?”

Hermione paused. Harry ran into her before back stepping a few steps. Angry Hermione was actually quite hot, he realized.

“Are you hitting on me?” She asked incredulously.

“No,” Harry denied. He actually _ had _ been flirting a bit. “I'm going off your look. It's a theory I have. When a girl is attracted to a guy, she has a look. It's the same look a dog gets right before you put down the bowl.”

“You're offensive,” Hermione decided as she arrived outside of the Great Hall. “And crazy. Offensive and crazy.”

“I’m honest,” Harry defended.

“Oh, Casanova likes honesty?” Hermione smirked in a way that made him immediately regret provoking her. “I'm planning on majoring in book repair when I leave Hogwarts. Part of that study includes repairing old artwork in antique books. Compared to the golden proportions of the human face, your nose is bent from encountering too many bludgers or offended boyfriends. It drips down at the bottom and is accentuated by the thinness of your upper lip. And your eyes, while a stunning green, are too far apart. Unfortunately, they have to be to accommodate that bent nose. But your _ hair _ —” she briefly scrunched up her nose as if it had personally offended her “—is _ such _ a rat’s nest, it practically overshadows the rest of your face. Honestly, I feel sorry for you. You have all of the fortune and opportunity imaginable, yet you have to validate yourself through insatiable, meaningless, ego-sport-sex with insecure girls like my best friend, Ginny. I would never have sex with someone like _ you _.” Hermione finished her rant with a smirk, not caring that they had drawn a crowd.

It wasn’t like Harry didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. His father was one of the richest on-and-off bachelors in the United Kingdom. He and his son never had issues attracting women left and right to warm their beds. But Harry had _ rules _. Ginny had grown too close, so he’d had to dump her. She hadn’t taken it well. Her brother (and Harry’s best friend), Ron, hadn’t taken it well either but he’d been appeased by a collection of Honeydukes’ finest.

Harry knew he should be offended by Hermione’s rant, but he couldn’t care less. This was the first time he felt a high from something _ other _ than sex.

“That was amazing,” Harry grinned.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going down to the kitchens to check on the house-elves before the feast.”

“Wait!” Harry called out to stop her. “Since you’ve put my Quidditch Keeper in detention on Sunday, can I book you for a study period at noon?”

“Ten,” Hermione replied with an evil grin.

“Excellent. I’ll bring the coffee.”


	2. Summer 2005

Ten years later, 25-year-old Harry woke up at eleven in the morning after a late night with one of his repeat booty calls, Gloria. Realizing he was late for his weekly lunch with Hermione, he completely ignored his ‘girlfriend’ as he quickly dressed and rushed out of her flat to get to the coffee shop in Diagon Alley as quickly as possible.

Sprinting all the way, he raced down the street into the new coffee shop next door to Gringotts. Skidding to a halt in front of the counter, he panted for breath.

“Wotcher, Harry,” the cafe’s owner, Dean Thomas greeted him. “You alright?”

“Late,” Harry panted, struggling to drag air into his lungs. “Coffee… Mione’s typical… Fast.”

“You know you’re a wizard, right?” Dean chuckled. “You could have Apparated here.”

Harry wanted to smack himself upside the head.

“Didn’t think about it,” he confessed. “I was in too much of a rush.”

“No worries, mate. I’ll just get your drinks made in a flash!”

Harry nodded gratefully and downed the water Dean slid across the counter. While he waited for his heart rate to return to normal, he decided to make a quick stop in the loo to tidy up.

So much — and yet so little — had changed in the last ten years. While Harry and Hermione had barely associated before Halloween during their fifth year, he had practically glued himself to her side afterwards. He had become obsessed with her inability to hold back her sharp tongue, and made a point out of booking her time on Sunday afternoons. The joke had turned into a habit and the pair still met up weekly for lunch.

Within a year of leaving Hogwarts, Harry had kept his fifth year promise to Hermione. He’d bought the Chudley Cannons and spent a good three to four years revamping the team. Nowadays, they were one of the top teams in the league and, once he had persuaded his previous Gryffindor Quidditch captain to switch from Puddlemere to the Cannons, their popularity and success had exploded, attracting star players from other teams as well. After the Cannons won the League Title and Europa League, popularity exploded.

Considering Harry pocketed five percent of the merchandise sold, and ticket sales, he had also accumulated a considerable chunk of change. After hiring an amazing team of managers and financial officers, he could pretty much choose whenever he wanted to go into work. Typically, he was only called into the office for major emergencies like player injuries or negotiations with the league and other teams.

So, considering the team pretty much ran itself, he had plenty of time to make daily social calls to his many girlfriends, despite his father trying to get him to take over the Potter seat on the Wizengamot.

When Dean called for Harry’s attention, he dropped a couple of Galleons in the barista’s hand and grabbed the carrier off the counter. Formally armed with Hermione’s decaf caramel macchiato, and Remus’ extra chocolate mocha, he made his way a few doors down to Hermione’s shop, Otterly Restored Reads.

Walking into the small store, Harry was greeted by the smell of books and parchment. Owning the small bookshop had been Hermione’s dream for as long as he had known her. After buying out Flourish and Blotts, she had revamped the bookshop. Once slightly dark and dingy, with towers of precariously placed books, the premises was no longer recognizable. Otterly Restored Reads was bright and cheerful with every book carefully stored and organized on the shelves. 

Harry was surprised that, while the door was wide open, there was no staff in sight to greet him with cheerful voices. He called out to announce his presence, hoping the shop’s owner was just in her studio.

“Hello? I bring coffee! Is anyone here?”

“We’re in the back, Harry!” Hermione’s voice was muffled by the doors separating them. Harry followed the sound and found Remus and Hermione in her studio, as he had predicted he would. The pair of book-lovers were hovering over a manuscript that looked ancient to his untrained eyes. _ Her _ eyes sparkled, however, as her fingers delicately traced the manuscript.

For a wild second, Harry wished he were an old book, but he quickly shook the thought away.

“New acquisition?” He asked as he sauntered in, carefully holding the drink carrier. “I bring refreshments.” 

He set the drinks on a different table to where Hermione worked. He knew better than to allow any liquids near the delicate manuscripts. If an accident were to occur, irreplaceable damage would be inevitable.

Both of the book-lovers’ eyes lit up at the sight of caffeine.

“You’re a lifesaver,” 26-year-old Hermione Granger praised as she took off her gloves and removed her optivisor, allowing her voluminous brown curls to tumble down to her waist. Since her school days, she had grown into a stunning young woman. No longer a buck-toothed, frizzy-haired child, she had finally adopted _ some _ beauty habits. Her waist-length chestnut curls were styled into controlled ringlets and her smile was straight and white. The makeup-free spatter of freckles on her nose, and her vibrant amber eyes, were the main things that she loved to keep as they were.

“Thank you so much, Harry! We’ve been up cataloging the damage on this new acquisition since last night,” Remus smiled gratefully as he picked up his chocolate beverage. Harry nodded at his sandy-haired uncle.

In her typical fashion, Hermione had enrolled in advanced schooling after Hogwarts and had achieved several certificates and licenses before officially retiring from her school career. Once she had completed her degrees, she had poached Hogwarts’ favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to be her business partner. While he had loved teaching for almost twenty years, Remus Lupin had leapt at the opportunity to co-own the bookstore. His favorite perk was that he could pick his hours and not feel limited by his lycanthropy.

Originally, Hermione and Remus had felt a bit of awkwardness trying act as colleagues instead of _ professor and student _ , but they quickly bonded over common interests and were often inseparable. This left James and Harry feeling jealous over the lack of their best _ smart friend _ . Fortunately, both were usually comforted by their best _ bro friends _, Sirius and Ron.

“I also made us reservations, so we should get going,” Harry told her.

“Oh? I didn’t realize the Leaky Cauldron took reservations now,” Hermione replied sarcastically before turning to her partner. “Remus, are you—”

“Don’t worry about the shop.” The werewolf waved her concern off with a smile. “Sirius and James are coming over in a little bit to bring me lunch and drop off another set of books to restore.”

“As if I’d expect anything else.” Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

To no one’s surprise, Hermione’s most valued customer was the infamously rich, Sirius Black. Since she had opened the shop’s doors, he stopped by weekly to offer her a new volume from the Black family library to restore, and bring his husband lunch.

While always a bold Gryffindor at school, Sirius’ favorite break from family tradition had been when he had married his half-blooded, werewolf husband. Walburga Black had actually died of a heart attack at the news of her only living son’s nuptials, making Sirius the de-facto head of the Black family. James, Sirius, and Remus had fixed up Grimmauld Place and renamed it The Den.

“Well, if the shop is covered,” Harry cut in impatiently. “Shall we head out?”

“Well, you certainly know how to _ woo _ a girl, don’t you, Mr. Potter?” Hermione chuckled as she stored her protective wear. She grabbed her bag and linked arms with Harry as they left. “Rushing her to drop everything for the promise of such delicious fine dining?”

“Don’t forget your Butterbeer in the middle of the day,” Harry teased back, bumping her hip with his own.

“It’s a _ Sunday _!” Hermione protested in a scandalized tone, lifting a hand to cover her heart. Harry just burst out laughing at her failed attempt at dramatics.

“Hermione, anyone in the Leaky on a Sunday will be drinking Butterbeer or stronger. You’ll be good kid out of all of us,” he promised.

Hermione joined in his laughter as they made their way into the infamous Leaky Cauldron. Upon entering the old, mangy pub, the pair separated. Harry made his way to the bar while Hermione wove through the crowded restaurant to claim them a table at the back.

“Hey, Tom!” Harry greeted the old barkeep. “Any chance I could get two plates of fish and chips and two Butterbeers?”

“I’ll get that started for you now, Harry!” Tom gave him a toothy smile as he accepted three Galleons in payment.

Turning to lean against the bar, Harry glanced around the pub for the curly hair of his best friend when he noticed something much worse. Two handsome middle-aged wizards with black hair had just entered the bar. One looked sharp with his long hair, five-o-clock shadow, piercings, and leather biker jacket. Harry knew that it hid two full sleeves of black-ink tattoos. The other gentleman looked like a slightly aged carbon copy of himself. The only difference between the two was that the older gentleman’s glasses had square frames, while Harry’s were rounded.

“Harry!” Sirius barked happily upon spotting his godson at the bar. “James! Look! It’s Prongslet!”

Knowing he had no other choice but to greet his two father figures, Harry suppressed his grimace and stood up straighter, waving at the pair.

“Harry!” James called out happily in greeting as he made his way towards the bar. While Sirius proudly wore his wedding ring, no fewer than four women turned to give him a serious once over as he passed.

It was common knowledge that both men were famous war heroes. When Harry was just over a year old, Voldemort had appeared at the Potter’s home on Halloween night. James had startled the dark wizard by transforming into a stag and stabbing him in the chest with a well-aimed antler, giving Lily time to retrieve her wand, disarm, and bind him.

With Voldemort restrained, James and Lily had sent off several Patronuses to the Aurors, Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus. Formerly a friend — now a traitor — Peter Pettigrew had tried to run, but was quickly captured by Alice and Frank Longbottom. A larger team of Aurors had quickly arrived to take Voldemort away. Once the two men were imprisoned in Azkaban, a plethora of Voldemort’s followers had been brought in for trial. Severus Snape was the only one who avoided sentencing with the help of Dumbledore’s testimony. 

At Sirius’ order, his house-elf, Kreacher, stepped forward and revealed the truth about Regulus Black’s sacrifice, giving the locket Horcrux to the Ministry as proof. The Ministry of Magic quickly used all of their resources to find and destroy Voldemort’s remaining Horcruxes, giving both the Potter and Black families Orders of Merlin, First Class, for their service to the war.

Initially thrilled at their war-hero status, James was quickly disillusioned when his marriage fell apart. Instead of coping in a healthy manner, he decided to bury his problems in as many women and bottles of firewhisky as possible.

“How much have you had to drink this morning?” Harry asked cautiously when the Marauders reached him. He could never tell if his old man was drunk or sober.

“As of now?” Sirius clarified as he gestured to Tom for two glasses. “The two we’re about to be served!”

“How are you, Padfoot?” Harry asked conversationally as he glanced around the pub again. Confirming Hermione was deep in conversation with a shop regular, he knew he could spare a few minutes for his father figures without leaving her hanging.

“I’m doing well, Prongslet!” Sirius beamed as he tapped a cigarette out and lit it with his wand. Taking a long drag, he considerately blew the smoke to the side. “Any hints who’s going to take the Cup this year?”

“Oh, it’ll definitely be my Cannons!” Harry laughed. “No question about it! Oliver is doing a great job whipping the team into shape!”

“I’d expect nothing less from the famous Captain Wood!” Sirius grinned, taking his glass from Tom. Harry nodded to the barkeep and paid for the two drinks.

“Did you bring the effervescent Hermione?” James asked.

Harry nodded in her general direction across the pub. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” He answered back with a rhetorical question of his own.

Sirius let out another bark of laughter as James threw an arm around his son.

“You’d better put a ring on that fast, Harry,” he stage-whispered conspiratorially, “Or you know what I’m gonna do?”

“No, Dad, I don’t,” Harry rolled his eyes. “Please tell me what _ nefarious _ plans you could have imagined up.”

“I’ll make her my new girl! That’s what I’ll do!” James laughed heartily. “She’s smart like your mum and way too pretty to be wasted on you! We both know she already likes the Potter look. It wouldn’t take much to convince her to try out the more reliable model!”

Harry guffawed in response.

“More reliable?” He laughed critically. “You’re a worse flirt than I am. At least I have rules on how to date my girlfriends!”

“James has rules too!” Sirius defended his best friend, before smirking and immediately betraying him. “He marries all of them.”

“Oi!” James protested. “I’ve only married five!”

“Seven,” Harry, Sirius, and Seamus deadpanned, the latter appearing beside them.

“And I should know since I handled all of your divorces,” Seamus continued as he greeted Harry with a slap on the shoulder.

“Shay! Neville!” Harry greeted his friends. “I didn’t see you come in!”

“I just popped over from the Muggle office to meet Neville for lunch,” Seamus explained as they both greeted Sirius with a firm handshake and nodded at the now-pouting James.

Seamus Finnegan worked as a divorce lawyer these days and had two offices for his magical and non-magical clientele. He found that having magic made it almost too easy for him to catch husbands and wives in affairs, so he was highly sought after. His biggest repeat client was the continuously remarrying James Potter.

The _ recently _married Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, was enjoying his summer break from teaching Herbology at Hogwarts. While school was in session he was known to meet his wife for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. Luna had a favorite booth where she enjoyed spending the days working on her manuscript, documenting her recent discoveries of new magical creatures.

“Your dad has a point though, Harry,” Neville replied. “I’m sure Hermione’s getting tired of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry turned to face his friend, confused.

“Oh, come off it, Harry! She’s a _ woman_!” Neville emphasized.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Harry scoffed. “I never noticed before! I wonder what I was thinking way back when we were in school?”

“Neville’s right, Harry,” Sirius confided. “Hermione’s nearly twenty-seven. Do you really think her ideal happily ever after is to meet you every week for fish and chips after you’ve sent another girl out of your rotating bedroom door?”

“You blokes are crazy,” Harry decided with an eye roll. “Hermione and I are just friends! _ Best _ friends, but _ just _ that!”

“If you don’t appreciate her while you can, you’ll lose her when you least expect it,” James told him sagely.

“Whatever.” Harry grabbed his tray from Tom. “You guys have a good day while I go hang out with my _ friend_.”

* * *

Hermione smiled as she saw Harry make his way back through the crowded restaurant with their order. His air of confidence hadn’t changed since childhood but his appearance had. Gone was the lean-yet-toned figure from their school days. These days he had filled out from training with his Quidditch team. Hermione loved that he never asked anything more of the team than he was willing to do himself. He had also grown a short beard and finally learned how to use a comb and gel to give his messy hair a deliberate style.

“Here we go,” he announced when he plopped their tray on the table without spilling their drinks into their food. “A platter of London’s finest fish and chips and a Butterbeer for the lady!”

“Thank you,” Hermione grinned. “You know how much I love fried things!”

“I do my best,” Harry winked back.

“So what happened with your Tuesday girl?” She asked curiously as they dug into their greasy fare. Harry had mentioned the previous week that one of his flames was growing too attached and he was planning on letting her go.

“Linda was hurt, but I was—”

“Let me guess,” she quickly cut him off. “You were _ honest_.”

“I was!” Harry defended himself around a mouthful of food. “Why did you say it like that? I’m always honest!”

“Chew, swallow, _ then _ speak, please,” Hermione requested in disgust. “It just baffles me how you try to use honesty as a shield against emotion.”

“I do not!” He argued. “I use it because it’s an important human trait.”

“While that may be,” Hermione conceded, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re sometimes _ too _ honest in an attempt to emotionally distance yourself from the situation.”

“Maybe you have a point,” he agreed, taking a long pull of his Butterbeer to consider her observation. “I guess I should be more like Cormac McLaggen, and lie.”

Hermione’s nose immediately scrunched up in disgust at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. “Don’t you dare,” she ordered. “_Cormac _ shouldn’t be like Cormac, but I refuse to let his influence affect you.”

“He only tried to get you into bed once,” Harry reasoned.

“At my father’s _ funeral_,” Hermione emphasized. “Who tries to hook up with his girlfriend at her father’s funeral?”

“Blokes out of touch with their sensitive side?”

“Oh, come off it, Harry,” she laughed.

“Cormac aside,” he continued, popping another chip into his mouth, “I do prefer my typical rules and girls over one-night stands.”

“What’s the difference?” Hermione regretted asking as the words came out of her mouth.

“It just can feel more… well… just _ more _ when you know your partner,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “One-night stands are fine and all, but I just like feeling closer to my partner.”

“That’s all fine and dandy until they get _ too _ close, right?”

“No strings attached,” he confirmed. “They can’t go thinking that they’re more than a regular booty call.”

“How romantic,” Hermione deadpanned before taking a long drink from her mug.

“And I’m all yours.” He batted his eyes at her teasingly to make her laugh.

Over the rest of their meal, they discussed Hermione’s most recent repair and Harry’s plans for the new Quidditch season. While he finished his plate quickly, he never complained or tried to rush Hermione as she took her time to enjoy her meal. When he noticed she was done eating, however, he_ still _waited to make sure she didn’t want seconds before suggesting they leave.

* * *

Leaving the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione placed her hand at Harry’s elbow, noticing as he instinctually bent his arm to support her casual hold. Out of practiced habit, he guided her through the busy street towards Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. Considering it was the middle of a sunny London day, the line into the shop was longer than usual but neither minded as they joined the back of the queue.

“So,” Harry asked as he wordlessly cast a cooling charm around them. “What are we ordering today?”

“It’s a surprise!” Hermione joked in a sing-song voice, before spotting a couple leaving the shop empty-handed. “Oh, look! A table just opened up! I’ll grab our ice cream if you save it?”

Harry nodded and left her side to make his way towards the indicated table. He knew she liked to pay sometimes to ‘keep it fair’, hating the gender-driven expectation the guy always had to pay. She argued that she made more than enough to cover the tab occasionally.

The table in question was covered in rubbish, Harry discovered. Disgusted by people’s inability to take care of their own leftovers, he flicked his wand over the table. A quick _ Scourgify _ left the table spotless, just as Hermione arrived with their desserts.

“Here you go,” she smiled as she gave Harry his order. He didn’t even glance at it as his spoon made a crater in her sundae.

“I should have gotten this,” he decided as he took a bite of her Nutella Crunch. “Is that a brownie I detect under your ice cream?”

“It is,” Hermione smiled.

“You always order better than I do. I’m ordering that from now on,” he announced after taking a bite of his raspberry and lemon swirl.

“No, you won’t,” she replied sagely as her spoon dipped into his soft-serve. “I need you to order the fruit flavors so I can have some!”

“Now that’s just not _ fair_,” he laughed as he reached over to her dish and she blocked his attempt with her spoon. “If you get some of mine, I should get to share yours!”

“Don’t be silly, Harry,” Hermione smiled as if he was a toddler to whom she was teaching a basic lesson. “What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine!”

“I don’t believe it! The Brightest Witch of Her Age never learned that ‘sharing is caring’!”

“Oh, I learned that.” She waved her spoon dismissively. “I just never cared!”

Harry guffawed, reaching for her dish again. For the next few minutes, their spoons were swords as the two tried to defend their own desserts while seeing how much they could steal of the other’s. Their battle ended when Hermione choked on her ice cream from laughing so hard and Harry surrendered due to the stitch in his side from laughing at the dribble of ice cream that escaped her nose in the process.

* * *

Their ice creams officially vanquished, the pair disposed of their empty dishes before making their way back in the direction of Hermione’s shop.

“Is this made with real dragon skin?” Hermione asked a street vendor conversationally when they stopped to admire one kiosk’s treasures.

“Baby dragon,” the vendor grinned conspiratorially, showing off the lovely turquoise book protector, assuming he was about to make a sale. He wasn’t expecting Hermione’s look of disgust as she started chewing him out about the rights of magical creatures. 

Having heard her beliefs on the subject several times, Harry rolled his eyes and looked at the kiosk’s other wares. He was considering buying a pocket watch that tracked his steps and daily water and calorie intake automatically when he caught sight of the vendor’s dog a few paces away.

“Why, hello there,” he offered the back of his hand for the Austrailian Shepherd to sniff. Once receiving a wet lick in return, Harry went to his knees and started petting the sweet dog. “Look at you! Such a pretty dog,” he praised in a voice only used for animals and babies. “I love you. Yes, I do. I love you. You're so pretty. Yes, you are. You're so beautiful. I love your beautiful face… I love you, love you, love you.”

“You should try saying that to a human sometime,” Hermione suggested as she kneeled beside him.

“You done chewing out the vendor?” Harry deflected as the dog rolled over for belly rubs.

“Harry,” Hermione scolded, “stop trying to change the subject! This is getting ridiculous! Do you even tell your parents you love them?”

Since her question was mostly rhetorical, she wasn’t expecting a straight answer. She _ really _ wasn’t expecting Harry to drag her into a narrow alley between buildings. She was incredibly grateful for his quick reflexes when she tripped and he caught her. But entirely _ ungrateful _ when he used his new grip to quickly spin her around to face him as he pulled her further into the musty and dark alley.

“What is _ wrong _with you?!” Hermione exclaimed angrily at the slightly rough treatment.

“Hide me,” Harry begged as he pressed her against the alley wall, urgently gesturing for her to keep her volume down. “It's Rita Skeeter. Don’t look! Just act like we’re any other pair of lovers sneaking a snog and she won’t look twice.”

“As charming an image as that is, _ why _ is she looking for you?” Hermione whispered back.

“She’s been like a dog after a bone since my last break up. Apparently owning a Quidditch team makes my love life interesting enough for an article,” he explained.

“I bet it’s more the revolving bedroom door than the Quidditch status,” she teased.

“I’m serious!” Harry told her. “She’s obsessed! Her last entry on me was a two page description of my _ face _. I guess the bright side is that she doesn't think my nose is too bent or my lips are too thin.”

“Who said that?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“You did,” Harry chuckled softly. “Back when we first became friends. You told me my eyes were too far apart, my nose was bent, my lips were thin, and described my hair as if it had personally offended you.”

“Did I really?” Hermione asked, shocked. “Well, I lied, then. I’ve always thought you were very handsome.”

“Oh, really?” Harry smirked at her cockily. “Care to share more?”

“You started it,” she glared.

“Quiet,” Harry cautioned as he crowded her closer to the wall. “Remember we don’t want to be caught.”

“Right,” Hermione whispered. “But I’m not wrong. You _ did _ call me a dog.”

“That was only because I wanted to sleep with you,” Harry replied mindlessly as he mostly focused on Rita appearing at the end of the alley. He quickly pulled Hermione closer so her body was shielding him from view, pushed her face into his shoulder, and nuzzled her neck to make them appear more inconspicuous. Just another couple sneaking a snog.

Hermione’s breath caught at the feeling of Harry’s toned figure pressing closely against hers. They had hugged before, but they’d never been pressed together quite so _ intimately _ . She shuddered at the realization that she _ liked _ it.

“Why haven't you tried to sleep with me since?” She asked. _ Was she so repulsive? _

Immediately feeling her stiffen against him as buried insecurities threatened to surface, Harry pulled back enough to stare straight into Hermione’s eyes, cupping her face in his large hands as he demanded her attention.

“Look at me,” he ordered her quietly when she tried to avoid his gaze. He didn’t say anything for the few moments it took for her to gather her courage and meet his gaze. “Hermione, I like having you in my life. You are _ stunning and brilliant _. Any guy would be lucky to have you, and I didn’t want to mess us up by chasing you as if you were a common flame while you’re actually brighter than a phoenix’s fire.”

Hermione was grateful the alleyway was dark and they were already pressed close. She took advantage of their embrace as she hid her blush by burrowing into his chest. Harry’s arms easily looped around her waist, pulling her even closer.

Just as he realized he liked having her in his arms a little _ too much_, he pulled back a few inches, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“To answer your earlier question, no,” he whispered in an attempt to distract himself. “I think it’d be weird if I started saying that I loved them now.”

“I don’t get how you can’t even tell your parents, yet you can tell a dog!” Hermione shook her head. She always felt the need to tell her family how much they meant to her, just in case she never had another chance. She hadn’t known she wouldn’t hear her father’s voice again after their last phone call due to a heart attack abruptly taking his life. “Even our friends tell their families they love them.”

“Name one,” Harry challenged.

“Neville, Fred, George, Ron, Sirius.” Hermione easily listed five names off the top of her head, keeping track by counting on her fingers. “Your father definitely says it to any girl who comes his way.”

“You know what?” Harry replied with a smirk. “I think you’re just an ‘I love you’ slut. You say it to literally everybody.”

Jaw dropping, she protested with a shout, officially forgetting she was supposed to remain quiet.

“You’ve _ got _ to be kidding me! At least I don’t _ sleep _ with half the people who cross my path, Harry Po—”

Harry tried to warn her to keep her voice down, but she kept ranting, loudly. Panicked that they’d be discovered in a position that he only _ just _ realized wasn’t in their best interest, he quickly did the only thing he could think of to silence his best friend; he covered her mouth with his own.

Hermione’s brain briefly short-circuited when Harry’s lips smothered hers. She could guess he was just trying to keep her quiet, and understood she should pull away or at least keep the kiss chaste, but she couldn’t help herself when she fisted the front of his shirt and kissed him back. She was angry, and if he wanted to shut her up with a kiss, he’d have to try harder than _ that _.

Harry hadn’t intended to kiss his best friend in a dirty alleyway, but he couldn’t help but appreciate her moxie when her mouth moved against his in retaliation, instead of relaxing into his arms like an innocent lamb. He recognized the challenge in her kiss, and was briefly overwhelmed by an instinctual urge to pin her against the wall and meet her fire head-on. But his brain kicked in at the last second, when he saw Rita leave out of the corner of his eye, and he pulled away instead.

Hermione was so distracted, her knees almost buckled beneath her when he moved and she didn’t have a chance to recompose herself before Harry was dragging her out of the shadowy alleyway and back onto the populated street.

“Wh—What?” She felt so jumbled and confused as she tried to… Oh, Merlin! _ Had she really just kissed Harry? _

“Rita’s gone.” His excuse felt hollow to him for some reason, but he decided to brush it off instead of mulling it over any longer. “Sorry about that. It was the only way I could think of quieting your shouts and I didn’t think past that.”

“It’s—” Hermione took a breath and consciously swallowed her disappointment as she wiped her suddenly sweaty palms against her jeans. “It’s no problem, Harry. With your reputation, I should have expected that you’d do something ridiculous like that if I couldn’t keep my voice down.”

The rest of their walk back to Otterly Restored Reads was shrouded in an uncomfortable silence. It wasn’t until they were in front of her shop that she broke their quiet.

“Harry, I know this isn’t the best time, but I have to tell you something.”

After their kiss, Harry dove headfirst into assuming the worst.

“Hermione, I told you I’m sorry about kissing you. You don’t need to end our friendship over it. I promise it’ll never happen again!”

“What are you…? Harry, I’m not ending our friendship!” She replied, bewildered. “I’m only telling you I’m going out of town!”

“I know I messed up, but… _ What did you say _?” 

“Harry, focus,” Hermione smiled kindly. “Our friendship is _ fine_. I’m not even upset about the kiss!” _ A lie. _ “Do you remember when I told you about that historic home in France with the amazing library?”

“You mean the one from Disney’s _ Beauty and the Beast _? It's all I think about.” Harry’s response was quick, and his look so serious, it took his delayed cocky smirk for her to realize he was joking.

Laughing, she playfully shoved his shoulder, but they both could tell the action was more stiff than it had been earlier.

“Stop it,” she smiled. “I’m talking about the one where they found volumes believed to be a part of Alexandria’s lost collection.”

“Oh, _ that _ one!” Harry acted shocked, but the truth was she had talked about little else since the story hit the newspapers, having dreamed of catching a glimpse one day.

“I got the contract to restore them!” Hermione exclaimed, briefly jumping up and down in excitement. At his confused expression, she continued to explain. “I finally got the funds and contract to start restoring the Alexandria collection. The only downside is that they want me to go to France for the official acquisition.”

“When are you leaving?” It was the only thing he could think to say in response.

“I leave in a couple of days and I’ll be gone six weeks.”

“Six weeks? That’s amazing,” Harry exclaimed. At Hermione’s confusion, he realized she thought he’d be upset at her for cancelling their ongoing plans. “It’s a long time, and I’ll definitely miss you, but what an incredible opportunity! I’m so excited for you!”

“Thank you,” Hermione beamed.

“It’s just… wow… six Sundays. What am I going to do without you?” They had been together for so long, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do without her.

“I can only imagine,” Hermione scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I’m sure your girlfriends will be devastated at the new availability in your schedule.”

Harry recovered from his melancholy immediately.

“Now that you mention it…”

“Oh, please!” She threw her hands up in the air before walking into her open shop. “Can you not be serious for five minutes?”

“I can be _ very _serious,” Harry replied as he followed her in. “I can also do a very good impression of him after knowing him for so long.”

Hermione laughed, making Harry’s chest swell.

“Let me at least take you to the airport,” he offered, knowing she preferred flying over taking a Portkey. “We can take my Maserati?”

Hermione pretended to consider the offer before a sly smile spread across her face.

“Only if _ I _ can drive.”

“Deal,” Harry promised. “Just no crashing her, okay? I happen to love that car!”

“You can say it about a _ car _, but not your father?”

“I’m leaving!” Harry laughed as he backed out of the shop. “Tell Sirius and Remus that I’ll see them at poker later!”

Hermione couldn’t help herself as she watched Harry walk off in the direction of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. When he was lost in the crowd, she finally let her smile slip and shoulders drop as she let out a disappointed sigh.

“That was so _ awkward_!” She bemoaned to herself.

“What was?” Remus asked, walking out from the back of the shop.

“Nothing!” She insisted, forcing a smile back onto her face. “I was just thinking aloud. Let me put my bag down and we can finish up Mr. Crowley’s repair before I leave for France!”

Hermione scuttled quickly to her private office and shut the door, leaning heavily against it. Without thought, her fingers traced her lips in wonder. She could still feel the phantom press of Harry’s lips against her own.

_ I’m being so silly, _ she scolded herself. _ Harry does not think of me that way. I need to focus on my trip to France. This is such an important trip for me and I can’t be distracted by silly ‘what-ifs’ and wonderings. _

When she exited her office five minutes later, her favorite photograph of the two of them on a trip to Italy no longer sat on her desk. Instead, it was firmly tucked away in the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet.

Out of sight, out of mind.

* * *

The following week, Harry kept his promise and let Hermione drive them both to the airport. Once she was safely inside the terminal, he headed into the carpark. With a quick wave of his wand, he shrunk and pocketed his car before Apparating away.

Seconds later, he landed on the front stoop of Potter Manor. Letting himself in, Harry basked in the familiarity of the mansion. Tall pillars lined the hall, along with portraits of family members long passed. The Manor was still well kept by his father’s childhood house-elf, Trilly, and there was not a speck of dust in sight.

He wove his way through the familiar halls until he entered his father’s wing of the manor. Making his way quickly towards the living room, he could hear a disagreement brewing from down the hall.

"I already told you I can't play today!” Ron argued loudly. “I’m tapped out. We had to buy new clothes for Dominique again.”

“You should have thought of that before you knocked up your girlfriend with twins when we were only eighteen!” Seamus snapped back.

No one had been more surprised than Ron and Fleur when a pregnancy test came back positive just weeks after he left Hogwarts. They had started dating after her partner dumped her at the Yule Ball in December 1994, keeping in touch through letters, and eventually falling in love. When her pregnancy was revealed, he surprised everyone by proposing instead of panicking. He had shrugged and explained that he’d had the ring for weeks, but the right time had never come... until then. His brothers, Fred and George, had given him a management position in their joke shop to allow him to support his new family, and Fleur worked from home while she watched over the newest set of Weasley twins — Louis and Dominique.

“You’re just too hard on the concept of marriage, Shay,” Neville argued on Ron’s behalf as Harry walked in. “It isn't all doom and gloom.”

“I claim bullshit!” Seamus argued. “Just like I said the other day at the Leaky Cauldron! Without divorce, I wouldn’t have my lovely ski cabin in Switzerland.”

“Just because you haven’t dated since Dean dumped you in sixth year for cheating doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t happy in our relationships!” James replied from the table, where he was playing Solitaire, bored.

“Said the man who sleeps with a different gold-digger every night,” Remus replied as he turned the page of his book.

“Neville’s right though,” Sirius continued from where he lay on the couch, head in his husband’s lap. “You’re missing out on all the best bits in life.”

“I’m not in a relationship either.” Harry decided to back Seamus up. “And I’m pretty happy.”

“You mean you still haven’t realized you’re in love with Hermione?” Remus asked surprised.

“Et tu, Remus? Why does everyone keep saying that?!” Harry exploded. “We’re just friends!”

Everyone was silent for a moment before Remus quickly changed the subject.

“Let's just play poker,” he suggested. “We've spent too much time standing around chatting.”

While they played — Harry subbing Ron so he could join in — Harry couldn’t get his friend’s words out of his head. Because of his distraction his pile of coins quickly diminished.

He conceded they might have a point when he realized his first instinct was to ask Hermione for advice. She was the only constant in his life and, without her, the idea of a different girl every night suddenly seemed bleak. He had secretly enjoyed having her wrapped up in his arms when they were hiding in the alley. He wondered how it would feel to hold her closer, to hold her hand and kiss her whenever he wanted. 

He wanted that.

After another dismal hand, he suddenly realized he had already lost all twenty Galleons he had started with. 

“What’s wrong with you today, Harry?” Neville asked, worried. “You _ never _ lose that badly.”

“I was distracted, that’s all. No big deal, I just have a lot on my mind.” He stood up and began to clear away their snacks.

“What do you mean?” Ron questioned.

“Ahhh… it’s nothing. Nothing at all. I just think you guys may be right... I think I might have feelings for Hermione.”

Everyone froze at his words, while Harry kept picking up their mess of cups and empty chip bags. Realizing they hadn’t moved, he sighed. “Oh, come on guys. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Sirius quipped.

“We’ve been waiting to hear you say that since we got a letter that a girl had been audacious enough to ream you out in front of the entire school after a prank went wrong in the library,” Remus admitted.

“Seriously?” Harry was shocked.

“What made you realize?” Remus asked.

“It's just… I was thinking about life without her by my side,” he admitted as he grabbed his wallet and shelled out the bills he owed. “And it got me thinking that maybe there's more to life than just sleeping around. I’ve decided that I'm gonna tell Hermione. When she gets home, I'm gonna tell her that I want to be with her.”

He said his farewells and decided to take a stroll through the park to the nearby Apparition point instead of using the Floo Network.

Walking through the park, he noticed an elderly couple out for an evening stroll. Harry smiled as he watched them cuddle close as they walked. His grin turned into a full-blown smile when they leaned in to share a sweet kiss. He immediately decided that that’s what he wanted with Hermione. He craved the ease and comfort of being with one perfect person instead of constantly changing partners — a revelation he had once been terrified of admitting. But there was no longer any point in denying that he wanted that with Hermione.

Harry couldn’t wait until the day she got back so he could finally tell her how he felt.


	3. Hermione’s Engaged

A month and a half later, Harry excitedly got ready to meet Hermione for dinner. He had received a letter explaining she was returning, and he couldn’t wait to see her.

He made sure to dress up in a pale green button-down shirt, which helped his eyes pop behind his glasses. He threw on a suit jacket and glanced at the clock.

Realizing he had gotten ready too early, he decided to walk to the restaurant in an effort to settle his jitters before he saw her. And when he passed a little kiosk selling flowers, he didn’t hesitate to buy a small cluster of red roses.

Arriving at the restaurant, he greeted the staff and tried to check in for their reservation.

“Looks like the rest of your party has already arrived,” the hostess told him with a smile as she gestured for him to follow her.

_ Party? _ Harry wondered when he finally caught sight of Hermione.

For a second he felt like the Grinch in the animated movie when his heart grew three sizes. Harry could feel his chest swell as he drank in the sight of her. Her hair was loose and her eyes sparkled happily, and Harry believed everything was right in the world.

Then he stepped around the hostess and saw that she was sitting next to a man.

A _ handsome _ man.

Immediately panicked, he turned to make an escape before they saw him… 

One second later, he ran straight into a waiter carrying a tray of plates. 

Two seconds later, both men were groaning on the ground, surrounded by food and scattered flowers.

“Harry?!” Hermione’s concerned voice rang through his confusion and pain.

“Oh, my goodness, sir! Are you alright?” The hostess panicked.

“Fine,” Harry replied gruffly, as he used Hermione’s hand to help him stand. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“You forgot your flowers.” The waiter tried to help by handing over the mangled bouquet.

“You brought roses?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“They’re not mine, they’re yours,” Harry denied, pushing the bouquet back into the confused waiter’s hands and turning to hug his best friend. “Welcome back! I missed you!”

“I missed you, too!” Hermione hugged him briefly before pulling away. “I have someone I want you to meet!”

“Brilliant.” Harry tried to mask his grimace with a smile.

“Harry, this is Draco,” Hermione beamed as she introduced the gentleman Harry had glimpsed moments before.

Dressed in a nice black tailored suit, the man standing up from the booth was even more attractive close up. He wore his platinum blond hair gelled casually out of his face in a way that made it look natural and effortless, and his grey shirt made his silver eyes stand out. Harry noticed all of this with growing resentment.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Draco introduced himself with a firm handshake and good eye contact. “Hermione’s told me so much about you.”

His English was perfect, so much so one would think he was local — unlike Fleur’s heavily accented diction.

“Well, that makes one of us,” Harry tried to joke. “I haven’t heard anything from her about you.”

He mentally beat himself with a brick at how that sounded.

“Sorry about that, Harry,” Hermione apologized, “I didn’t have much time to write between restoring, and spending time with Draco.”

“So you two have spent a lot of time together in France?” Harry clarified. “How did the pair of you meet?”

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Hermione gushed. “He saved my life!”

“Oh, really?”

“You were a ‘damsel in distress’, what was I supposed to do?” Draco smiled adoringly at her.

“So I got to the castle — the one I told you about, right?” Hermione started. “They weren’t ready for me yet, so they let me browse the library as I waited. I saw a beautiful book on a high shelf and you know me! I just _ had _ to get a closer look! So I grabbed a nearby ladder and climbed up to get it. Next thing I know, _ the ladder breaks beneath me_.”

_ “What?” _ Harry gasped. “Were you alright?”

“It was old and my family had been planning on throwing it out, so we had set it aside,” Draco explained. “This lovely lady thought that’s where we stored it. I could feel my heart dropping when I entered the library and saw her climbing it.”

_ I know the feeling _ , Harry thought. _ In fact, I think I’m feeling it right now. _

“He was _ just _ able to get to me as the bar snapped!” Hermione gushed, “I was so shocked I didn’t even yell. Next thing I know, I’m opening my eyes to find myself in this guy’s arms. Can you believe it? He caught me and _ didn’t _ drop me!”

“Just barely, though,” Draco amended. “You’re light as a feather, but that fall was nothing to sneeze at.”

“It was straight out of a romance novel,” Hermione sighed dreamily before leaning in to kiss Draco on the lips.

Harry definitely felt his heart hit his stomach at that.

“So, anyway,” Hermione continued, oblivious of Harry’s inner turmoil. “What does Draco do? He carries me all the way across the castle to the kitchens so he can check me over himself. Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt. But _ then _ he proceeds to cook me the most _ delicious _ meal I have ever had!”

“In my defense, I’m surprised it turned out so well,” Draco deflected graciously. “It was sub-par at best.”

“Okay, it _ was _ pretty bad,” Hermione giggled as she beamed at him, as if his one minor flaw made him glitter with more radiance.

Harry wanted to vomit.

“In the end,” Draco continued, “I offered to give her a personal tour of the castle and surrounding lands!”

“Oh, Harry, it was so beautiful!” Hermione praised. “Any time I wasn’t working on the restorations, Draco would whisk me off to some other lovely town. We visited museums and travelled and… it was _ perfect _!”

Draco smiled warmly and pulled her in for an enthusiastic and generous kiss.

Harry felt his entire world start spinning. He was scared of where this was going. 

He didn’t want it to go where he thought it _ was _ going.

“When it finally came time for Hermione to leave,” Draco continued as he pulled away from her, “I just… I don't know, I just couldn't let her go. I talked to my parents, got my mother’s ring, got down on one knee…”

“And he _ proposed_,” Hermione exclaimed. “And I accepted!” She squealed as she thrust her left hand at Harry so he could see a _ large _ diamond ring on her finger.

Harry could feel his mouth moving, but no words came out. Quickly coughing to clear his throat, he stalled by taking a sip of water.

“That’s just… huge, Hermione!” He said, hoping that he seemed enthusiastic. He wasn’t sure if he was referring to the ring or her announcement, but figured the response worked for either situation. Hermione continued so swiftly that his awkward pause went unnoticed. 

“So the wedding's coming together very quickly,” she explained. “We’re going to be married in the castle’s chapel, like Draco’s parents were, for the final event of the Fête Médiévale.”

“The what of what?”

“The Fête Médiévale is a major event at Draco’s home, the Château de la Roche Courbon.”

“I feel like I missed something,” Harry cut in. “Draco, does your family work at the castle Hermione was hired by?”

“You could say that,” Draco nodded.

“You could also say that your family _ owns _it, Draco,” Hermione smiled kindly. “He’s just too humble, isn’t he?” 

“Sounds like it.”

“The wedding will be a pretty small thing,” Hermione continued. “I mean how many people can we expect to make arrangements in just a fortnight?”

“I’m sorry, _ what_?!” Harry exclaimed in shock. “You’re getting married in _ two weeks_?”

“On the summer solstice!” Hermione nodded excitedly. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“The craziest.” Harry was beginning to wonder if Hermione had lost her mind.

At her next question, the world screeched to a halt and he knew she had.

“If you were getting married, I’d expect to be your Best Man. Harry, will you be my Maid of Honor?”

* * *

The following afternoon, Harry still felt like he’d been sucker punched when he showed up to his father’s weekly poker night.

“Hey, Harry!” Sirius greeted him, pausing at the look in his godson’s face. “Whoa! Talk about gloomy. Who died?”

“Hermione.” He replied shortly, throwing himself heavily into a plush armchair.

“_What_?!” Remus exclaimed alarmed.

“No…” Harry backpedaled. “She’s fine, it’s just… _ Hermione_.”

“How about you take a minute and tell us what’s _ actually _ going on, pup?” Sirius suggested as he dropped onto Remus’ lap before getting shoved off. Instead he took Remus’ hand in his own. “You lot shut up,” he ordered the others. “Harry’s going to tell us a story.”

In less than five minutes, Harry watched his friends and father figures go through a variety of emotions. First was worry, which was quickly followed by confusion and concern. But, by the end, all the men were laughing riotously.

“Maid of Honor?” Seamus laughed. “That’s hilarious, man!”

“Especially because you _ are _a man,” Ron pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” Harry deadpanned. “Go ahead and get it out of your systems.”

“So what did you say?” Neville asked.

“I didn’t say anything!” Harry exclaimed as he got up to pace. “What _ could _I say to that?”

“Bloody hell, man. This is _ Hermione _ we’re talking about. How into this guy could she be?” Ron asked.

“Doe-eyed and giggling,” Harry replied. “She was acting as if he was the best thing since printed books, fawning all over him as if he hung the moon in the sky.”

“Oh, shit,” Ron’s jaw dropped.

“That’s not good, man,” Neville looked concerned now. “I think you have to do it.”

“Do what?” Seamus asked.

“Harry _ has _ to be her Maid of Honor,” Ron nodded in agreement.

“Now I know you’re shitting me,” Harry argued.

“It’s not a _ bad _ idea,” Ron considered. “Especially if you can get inside her head about it.”

“What are you saying?” Harry was shocked. Did his friends really just flip from teasing to actually _ encouraging _ him to be Hermione’s Maid of Honor?

“Think about it this way, Harry,” Neville piped up. “You said her wedding is in _ two _ weeks? If you _ aren’t _a part of her wedding party, she won’t make time to see you.”

“Weddings take a hell of a lot more work than you’d think,” Ron nodded. “Being her Maid of Honor will give you a solid excuse to be around Hermione all the time.”

“What?” Harry was so confused.

“You’d be her _ confidant,_ Harry,” Neville spelled out for him. “This is the only way you can be around her enough to _ hint _ that she may be making the wrong choice.” 

“Plus, it gives my guy some time to do a little investigating,” Seamus offered. “If she’s really hung up on this ‘Draco’, then we should look into him and see if there’s anything we can use against him.”

“Okay,” Harry protested. “You were winning me over on the Maid of Honor stuff, but we are _ not _ hiring a private investigator for him!”

“Everyone’s got skeletons in the closet, mate,” Seamus argued. “And my guy is the best!”

“It just seems so cheap,” Harry frowned.

“Don't worry,” Seamus laughed. “I'll charge you double because you're rich.”

“Shay—” Harry began, giving his friend his best impersonation of Hermione’s glare, hoping that’d say the rest.

“Harry,” James interrupted. “You finally told us that you’re in love with Hermione. I don’t think you have any other options than to be her Maid of Honor and do your best to open her eyes. You have a much better chance of stopping this wedding from ‘inside’ than from across the channel.”

“Are you guys _ sure _ there’s no other options?” Harry clarified.

“Yes!” The response was unanimous.

“Then I guess I’m officially a Maid of Honor,” Harry decided.

* * *

Harry and Hermione met at the House of Fraser the next morning.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She was wearing a lovely white sundress which made her hair stand out against slightly tanned skin. “Absolutely stunning. I like your dress”

“Thank you, Harry!” Hermione beamed. “Draco bought it for me.”

He immediately hated it.

“I’m so grateful you’re going to be my Maid of Honor,” Hermione smiled.

“So am I,” Harry agreed cheerily, albeit for very different reasons. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.” He highlighted his enthusiasm with a thumbs up and a ridiculously toothy grin. 

“So let me tell you about who else is in the bridal party,” Hermione began as they entered the lift, heading towards the Tea Terrace for the bridesmaids’ brunch.

“So, first is Luna,” Hermione grinned.

“Great,” Harry smiled. “I like Luna.”

“And there’s also Fleur,” Hermione continued with a nod.

“I love Fleur!” Harry beamed.

“She loves you, too!” Hermione beamed, before her smile became tense. “And Gin—”

“No,” Harry replied adamantly, before she was even finished saying the redhead’s name. “Please tell me you’re joking! She hates me!”

“Well, you broke her heart.” 

“She broke my nose!” 

“It was an accident.”

“She hit me with her fist!” Harry insisted. “I told her no strings. _ She _ grew attached!

“Sometimes our actions don’t match our words,” Hermione counseled. “Plus, she’s been wanting to be my Maid of Honor since we were eleven years old, so now she's really gonna hate you.” 

“Excellent,” Harry muttered as they approached the restaurant. The other three girls were already waiting by the hostess. “Here we go.”

As soon they saw Hermione, girlish squeals filled the air. Hugs and kisses were exchanged as everyone greeted each other, but when Harry attempted to say hello to Ginny, the temperature in the room turned frosty as she blatantly ignored him.

“Well, _ zat _ wasn’t uncomfortable,” Fleur muttered.

“Ginny has an influx of Wrackspurts around her today,” Luna replied dreamily. “They’re known to increase irritation, you know.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed tightly. “I’m sure that’s all it is. Shall we?”

The hostess seated them quickly. Harry had made sure to book the carriage booth — the fairy tale themed table resembling Cinderella’s carriage. The walls were covered in beautiful vines and little yellow flowers. It was the perfect size for all five members of their party, with Harry and Hermione beside each other and Ginny, Fleur, and Luna facing them.

After ordering, the five stared at each other awkwardly, until Fleur decided to speak up. “So ‘Arry, ‘ave you met Draco?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, “We were introduced when Hermione asked me to be her Maid of Honor.”

“Don’t his eyes remind you of a Thestrals’?” Luna asked dreamily. “Silver and soulful.”

“Uhhh… sure?” Harry questioned curiously. He had no idea what a Thestral looked like.

“Could someone please pass the sugar?” Ginny asked politely after the waitress had brought their drinks. When Harry offered the dish, Ginny ignored him and asked again. “Could someone, who's not a misogynist, please pass the sugar?”

Hermione’s phone rang as Fleur took the sugar bowl from Harry and passed it across Luna to Ginny, who was on the far side of the table.

Glancing at her phone, Hermione smiled and excused herself, explaining it was Draco. Everyone smiled and nodded until she was far enough away in the restaurant’s neighboring clothes section. As soon as she could tell that Hermione wouldn’t hear them, Fleur turned on the others.

“Écoute moi, we are _ not _ going to do zis,” she informed them seriously.

“Do what?” Ginny asked innocently.

“_Zis_,” Fleur responded emphatically as she gestured between Ginny and Harry. “I know you’re upset, Ginny, but ‘Ermione chose _ ‘Arry _ to be her M.O.H., not you.”

“What's a M.O.H.?” Harry questioned innocently.

“M.O.H. Maid Of Honor,” Ginny replied as if Harry were stupid. “How do you expect to be a good M.O.H. if you don't even know that?”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, when Fleur cut him off.

“I already said zat’s enough, Ginny,” she scolded her sister-in-law. “While ‘Arry _ may _ be uninformed on ‘ow to be a proper Demoiselle d'Honneur, we only have a few days to plan ‘Ermione’s wedding, so let’s get started.”

“That’s fair,” Luna nodded.

“For Hermione,” Ginny acquiesced.

Fleur took the lead. “We ‘ave ze bridal shower, dress fittings, shopping for ‘Ermione’s trousseau, meeting with ze minister, and travel arrangements. Qui est libre?”

“If we’re to get all of this done,” Harry rationalized, “Shouldn’t we split the responsibilities and possibly combine outings?”

“We already _ are _ , numbskull,” Ginny snarked. “Typically, these would all be _ your _ responsibilities.”

“Okay, well, I want to step up to the plate,” Harry replied. “Let’s just start with the basics. What’s a trousseau?”

“It’s lingerie for her wedding night,” Luna beamed as Fleur blushed and Ginny grinned. “Mine were very lacey and Neville seemed to enjoy them thoroughly. Perhaps I could take care of that?”

“‘Ow about we all get ‘er a leetle zomething as a gift and let ‘er decide?” Fleur compromised. “We can present ‘zem to her at ze bridal shower. I don’t zink it’ll be more than just us girls, anyway.”

“And me,” Harry corrected. “The least I can do is host a nice dinner for all of us at my place.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Luna agreed before either Fleur or Ginny could protest. “A last meeting between us before Hermione leaves for France.”

“Parfait,” Fleur agreed. “Are you sure zat works for you, ‘Arry?”

“I’d be delighted,” Harry nodded.

“Okay, in that case, I need dress sizes,” Ginny continued. “Hermione asked me to make them to help save time and money.”

Harry chuckled. That was so like her. With her formation of S.P.E.W. in school, Hermione rarely bought her clothes anymore. She had gotten Ginny into the habit as well. Although, unlike Hermione, Ginny had become very skilled at it and had her own clothes line that she designed during the Quidditch off-season.

“I am sleem again,” Fleur smiled, delighted to have her figure back after pregnancy. “Je suis une taille huit ici… size eight ‘ere.”

“UK twelve for me,” Luna smiled dreamily. 

“Okay. Got it,” Ginny nodded as she took a quick note. “What's your dress size, Made Of Honor?”

“I don't know. What's your jock size, Ginny?” Harry snarked back, no longer able to refrain from retorting.

“C'est assez!” Fleur shrieked, quickly lowering her voice in embarrassment. “Sorry, but will you _ look _ at ‘Ermione?” They all glanced over to where the woman in question was twirling a curl of her hair around a finger. Harry wanted to gag. “She's ‘appy. _ Finally_. So pleese, for ‘Ermione, let's all just get along, put a smile on our faces, and pretend everyzing's _ parfait _!”

Hermione appeared beside them moments later, sliding back into the booth beside Harry as the rest of their Traditional English Tea Set arrived with finger sandwiches, scones, and mini desserts.

“How’s it going?” She asked as they all dug in.

“All planned,” Fleur beamed. “We’re all going to ‘elp out!”

“But Harry’s volunteered to help out the most,” Ginny spoke up. 

“Perfect,” Hermione beamed. “Are you sure, Harry?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Harry replied honestly, although for very different reasons.

The rest of their tea time was spent discussing wedding details like place settings and the reception line. By the time the girls were nibbling at the desserts, Harry was desperate for an escape and offered to go pay for their meal.

To say he was surprised when Ginny appeared beside him would be an understatement.

“I just want you to know that I forgive you for being a jerk,” she told him.

“Uhhh… thanks?” He wasn’t sure how to respond to a comment like that.

“It’s not for you,” she clarified. “I just don’t want to fight with you, for Hermione’s peace of mind.”

“Then thank you for Hermione,” Harry replied as Ginny glared.

“It should have been me,” she scoffed, stalking off.

Harry rolled his eyes with a chuckle. Then Hermione joined him while the other girls followed Ginny to the lingerie section.

“I just had a very nice bonding moment with Ginny,” Harry joked as he offered her his arm.

“Really?” She asked, shocked. “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” he insisted. “I’d never lie to you.”

“Can I ask you a favor?” She asked in a change of topic. “Do you mind driving me to the airport in the morning? My mother is flying in and I wanted to see Draco off.”

“He’s leaving so soon?” Harry questioned. “I thought he’d be taking a Portkey?”

“He typically would have, but he was only able to book the one here and with Mum flying in, it was perfect timing,” Hermione confessed.

“I don’t see any reason why I can’t take you and Draco to Heathrow tomorrow,” Harry smiled. “It beats the Tube.” 

_ And the sooner Draco leaves, the better _.


	4. Putting your Foote in it, Harry!

Harry regretted agreeing to Hermione’s request the next day as he leaned against the door of his Maserati in the airport carpark.

_ Is he trying to eat her? _

It was practically impossible to avoid staring at Hermione and Draco’s borderline indecent goodbye kiss.

He beamed in relief when he recognized Jean Granger coming around the corner from the terminal, but his smile quickly turned into a frown as he jogged over in order to relieve her of her bags. The vibrant woman he had known for years looked significantly thinner than she had at their last meeting. In his humble opinion, she looked _ too _ thin.

“Jean,” Harry quickly masked his concern with a smile as he greeted her with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s so good to see you. It's been too long. How have you been holding up?”

“Harry,” she smiled warmly, but quickly frowned when she pulled back and saw the look on his face. “Oh, don’t you start,” she warned. “I’m _ fine_.”

“You’ve lost too much weight,” Harry argued back, quietly. “You’re not eating enough.”

“I’m eating plenty,” she scolded her surrogate son. “I just don’t feel like cooking much since Robert passed.”

Harry frowned further in understanding.

No one had been prepared when Hermione’s father, Robert Granger, had suddenly died of a heart attack the previous autumn. Hermione had sunk into a dark place for weeks. For a solid month, she refused to even leave her flat after receiving the news. Eating, showering, and going to work were chores she didn’t have the energy to complete. By the time Harry had threatened to break down the door if she didn’t open up, she had lost over a stone in weight. Already a relatively slender young woman, losing that amount made Hermione look ghostly. Harry had panicked and dragged her to the hospital. After she was checked out, he insisted on staying with her until she regained at least half of the weight she had lost.

“You look like you’ve lost another stone since Easter,” he told Jean, concerned. He had helped Hermione, but her mother looked like she had struggled alone.

“Yes,” she sighed. Jean knew she had never been able to get away with lying to the young man in front of her. She could, however, get away with threatening him. “And if you breathe a word of it to Hermione, I’ll tell her you slept with our maid at Easter.”

“She told you?” Harry’s jaw dropped. “I didn't know she spoke English.”

“I speak Italian, you silly boy!” Jean chuckled. She reached up to pat the young man’s cheek as if he was still the gangly teenager she had met at Platform 9¾ over a decade ago. “And, yes, she told me.”

“Well, this is officially awkward,” Harry muttered, his hand scratching the back of his head to show his discomfort.

He glanced back at Hermione in search of a rescue, just in time to see her and Draco walking over to greet them.

“And Harry,” Jean recalled his attention softly. “I promise you it’ll get worse if you say _ anything _to my daughter about my weight.” Her glare disappeared a moment later behind a giant smile for her daughter.

“Hi, Mum,” Hermione beamed as she embraced her mother. “I want you to meet my Draco.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Granger,” Draco smiled charmingly as he offered her his hand to shake. Harry grinned as Hermione winced. _ Wrong move. _

“It’s _ Doctor _ Granger, actually,” Jean politely corrected him. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when my little girl called me to say she was planning on moving to France to get married.”

“Mum!” Hermione protested.

“Silence, dear,” Jean shushed her protégé. “Mummy’s giving your fiancé the low-down. You must be something special to sweep my smart daughter off her feet, so I’m not going to tell you I disapprove. However, if I find out that you made Hermione spill a single tear in anything other than happiness, I’m going to send _ this one _ after you,” she told him, looping an arm through Harry’s. “Are we clear?”

“Perfectly, ma’am,” Draco nodded seriously. “But, if I may? Your daughter is an incredibly special young woman. I love her more than words can say, and I can’t wait to make her my wife so I can spend the rest of my life proving that.”

Jean narrowed her eyes as she studied the Frenchman. After a moment, she nodded in approval. “As long as you appreciate my girl, we’re good. Harry, were you going to help me with my bags or do I have to do everything myself?”

Harry quickly took her belongings to his car and stashed them in the trunk. The last thing he wanted to do was have her sharp tongue lashing out at him. When he turned back towards the others, he sighed in annoyance at the sight of Hermione pulling Draco in for another passionate, nauseating, kiss.

Harry shook his head at the sight. He opened the back door for Jean and dropped into the driver’s seat.

He knew that, if he were given the chance to kiss Hermione properly, he wouldn’t squander it trying to suffocate her with his tongue where everyone could watch. He’d savor her. He’d run his fingers through her rebellious curls. Using a grip at the back of her neck, he’d draw her closer. He’d pepper her face with a flurry of light kisses on her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Only when her amber eyes turned to hunger for being denied, he would press her against the nearest wall and kiss her soundly to let her _ know _ that he lov—

“Sorry about that!” Hermione breathed as she sat into the passenger seat, ripping Harry from his daydream. He realized Jean was eyeing him quizzically.

“Are we ready to go?” She asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Need Chapstick?” He offered, starting the car and pulling out of the airport’s carpark.

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled as she took it. “We’re going to Mum’s hotel and then the church to meet Reverend Foote.” 

“Isn’t Draco Catholic?” Harry wondered aloud as he cast a cloaking spell on his car, taking it into the air. Growing up around Ron’s family had its benefits. After seeing the Weasley’s Ford Angelia fly as a child, Harry had paid handsomely to have Arthur make similar modifications to his Maserati. He loved how it allowed him to speed up and skirt around London traffic without causing a scene.

“Yup,” Hermione smiled. “I know their mass is more traditional and formal than the Church of England, but Reverend Foote married my parents, and he _ insisted _ on coming to France to marry us when I told him it’d be a magical ceremony!”

“That’s kind of him,” Harry nodded.

Instead of the hour it’d typically take to drive to the hotel from the airport, it only took him thirty minutes to drop off Jean and then land with Hermione on a quiet road near the church.

Magic truly was wonderful.

With a flick of his wand, Harry’s prized sleek silver Maserati shrunk to the size of a matchbox, which he quickly scooped up and pocketed. He loved that parking was never a problem.

“So why didn’t Draco stay and go to this meeting with you?” He asked Hermione.

“It was more important he go home to address the Grand Magic Council and prepare for the festival,” she replied, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

Harry automatically linked her arm through his as they left the alley and walked towards the church. He took a moment to appreciate the lack of drizzle and the unnaturally warm summer weather as they strolled.

“Well, it’s tradition for pure-bloods to get married during the festival’s finale, which is why the wedding is being planned so fast,” Hermione supplied. “The pure-blood laws were obviously abolished after the war, but the tradition of certain families remain.”

“Is Draco really all that important?” Harry wondered as the church came into view.

“Well… he’s kind of royalty,” Hermione shrugged, obviously not caring about titles, just how it affected her wedding planning.

“Royalty?” Harry questioned. “What? Is he related to the old French monarchy?”

“No! No!” Hermione’s laugh tinkled as they crossed the street. “He’s just an heir of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He’s the only heir to the Malfoy estate.”

Harry’s frustrated stomp of the foot went unnoticed as Hermione slipped into the church. He took a moment to take a deep breath before he followed her inside.

“Reverend Foote!” Hermione gushed, hugging the elderly man who’d come forward to greet her. “It’s been far too long!”

“Hermione, darling,” he smiled at the once buck-toothed and bushy-haired child who had grown into a beautiful young woman, seemingly in the blink of an eye. Turning to the side, he caught sight of Harry entering the room. “And this must be the young man who has swept one of my favorite witches off her feet!”

“Oh, no, I’m—”

“He’s my Maid of Honor, Reverend,” Hermione cut in. “He’s been my best friend for years and has agreed to help me with the wedding!”

“Oh.” The reverend took a step back and then reached forward to hug Harry as he had welcomed Hermione. “Welcome to the parish, my boy. We have many gay and—”

“I’m not gay,” Harry quickly rejected. “I’m the opposite actually. Completely straight. TOO straight. Too straight, too often, with too many _ girls _.”

Hermione let her head fall into her hands.

“I… see,” Reverend Foote replied. “Well, the Church is known to accept all who—”

“Shall we start the meeting, Reverend?” Harry suggested quickly.

“Yes, perhaps we should,” he nodded. “Let’s go into my office.”

Once the trio was settled with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits, Reverend Foote took out a notebook and prepared to take notes.

“For the wedding, Hermione, I typically like the couple to know each other a little longer than a few weeks,” he said kindly. “You can understand my concern at how quickly you seem to be planning this.”

“I understand,” Hermione replied. “We know it’s fast, but we really want to be married on the solstice in France before I move there to be with him.”

“Wait,” Harry stopped her. “Move there? You mean _ move there_, move there?”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione smiled at him, a little confused. “It just makes sense that, when I leave for France, it will be permanent. I’ll still come to visit, but I’ll be living abroad with Draco.”

“How does that make sense?” Harry argued. “You live here! Your bookshop is here! Your life and friends are _ here."_

“Harry, I've already decided to sell my half of the shop to Remus and move to France to be with Draco.” Hermione tried to calm her best friend down with a reassuring smile. “It's exciting, you know? And it makes sense. He's next in line to take over the family business.”

“But you’re already in charge of a business _ here_, Hermione! You’ve put so much of yourself into building up a… a reputation, a client base, a decent income… In what? Six weeks, you’ve just decided to throw—” Harry tried to argue. 

Her jaw clenched and her amber eyes flashed in anger.

“My decision is made, Harry Potter,” she said with a sense of finality. He knew it was pointless to argue with her just then. The woman was as stubborn as an ox and was not to be trifled with once she made a decision.

He smiled ruefully and gave up for the time being. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Hermione’s mouth popped open for a second as a hurt expression crossed her features, but she quickly covered it with a smile.

“Reverend Foote,” she tried to redirect the conversation, “Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

“Actually, yes,” he replied good naturedly. “I need to get some details about you and Draco to work into the ceremony.”

“Of course!” Hermione smiled. “It was such a whirlwind, really. What would you like to know?”

“Alright, then. Tell me about it.”

Still a little peeved that Hermione hadn’t talked to him about her plans to move away, Harry decided to _ help _Reverend Foote’s interview.

“Hermione, I think it's important to dig deep and tell the Reverend all you know about Draco. All that you love about him. And not just the obvious stuff, but those unique characteristics that are _ Draco _. Those things that make you laugh and say… ‘That's so Draco’. And then, Reverend, maybe you could get some information from Draco and emphasize their unique bond, their shared history,” he suggested with a smile. 

How could he not smile when there was nothing Hermione could say to that? She and Draco didn’t _ have _enough shared history to fill a teacup, nevermind a service.

“What a lovely idea,” Reverend Foote beamed at Harry.

“We could talk about love at first sight,” Hermione choked out. The longer Harry and the reverend talked, the more suffocated she felt. Harry spoke as if she and Draco knew nothing about each other, but he didn’t understand. 

“Hermione, that’s a crowd pleaser to be sure, but it’s also a bit generic... and you are no generic girl,” Reverend Foote suggested kindly. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like to include in the ceremony?” 

Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to tell of how perfect she and Draco were, to defend her relationship, and let everyone know how much she loved her fiancé. Their love was what she had always dreamed about, and she was _ lucky _ to have finally found it.

Despite her mouth opening and closing several times, however, no sounds came out.

Harry couldn’t stand to watch her feeling so awkward, so he stood up and walked around the room. An old book with a worn leather cover caught his eye.

“Morgana!” He suddenly exclaimed, in front of the bookshelf.

“Harry?” Hermione exclaimed, startled.

“Hermione, do you remember your first high-end repair after opening the shop?” 

“Morgana’s journal,” Hermione responded immediately with a smile in remembrance. Truly an amazing find for the time, she had been deeply humbled and honored when Sirius had brought her a priceless family heirloom to repair — Morgan le Fey’s, no less.

“Right,” Harry nodded in confirmation. “At the time you were dating some big shot at the Ministry and he asked you to move in. You were insistent that you loved him, but you were holding back because you weren’t sure for some reason. Anyway, it was about that time Sirius brought you that journal for you to restore and you became _ obsessed _. You wouldn’t eat or sleep for days, you were so passionate about the love letters you found within the pages, remember?” Harry smiled as he sat back down. “I’ll never forget what you said, ‘These love letters express their souls in their mutual love and affection far better than any biography could hope to capture’.”

Hermione's jaw was on the floor.

“I can't believe you can remember that,” she whispered, amazed.

“I also remembered that you panicked,” Harry smiled at her. “You realized that you wanted a love like the one expressed in those letters and that you felt less than a drop in the pond of affection for Mr. Bigshot in comparison to the passionate love that Morgana shared in her journal. You wondered if you could ever meet somebody that could make you feel as passionate as that one book.”

Hermione locked eyes with Harry in shock. Since when had he been so perceptive? 

He just gave her a confident grin, as if he thought he knew her far better than Draco ever could.

“That’s excellent, my boy!” Reverend Foote cut into their moment. “Now I know why you picked him to be Maid of Honor.”

Hermione’s eyes stayed on Harry even as he turned back to Reverend Foote.

_ Had _she made the right choice to make Harry her Maid of Honor? One second he was infuriating, making her want to snap his neck for judging her so harshly. But the next he was remembering things about her that she had never told anyone else. 

So what was the right decision for _ her_?

The meeting continued with a few more side comments from Harry and a lot of evasive answers from Hermione.

“Is this all a joke to you?” She asked angrily him when they left.

“What are you talking about? What did I do wrong?”

“How about I ‘dig deep’?” She quoted angrily. “And _ Morgana_?”

“What are you upset about?” He shouted back. “I was just trying to help! Don’t you feel for Draco what you felt while reading those letters?”

“I _ love _him, Harry, and you’ve treated this like a joke since the beginning. I have no idea if I can even trust you with this anymore. One second you’re amazing and helpful, and the next, it’s like you’re trying to drive me insane!”

“Mione—”

“_Don’t _ bloody call me that! I need to know that you are there for me, Harry!”

“Like you’re going to be there for me?” Harry shot back. “When were you going to tell me you weren’t planning on coming back after the wedding?”

“I already told you! It makes sense for me to move there! I can restore books anywhere, but Draco can only run his family’s business in France.”

“Hermione, your entire life is here! The shop... it’s reputation... everything...” Harry tried to reason before quietly adding, “_I _ am here.”

“Do you have any idea how important this is to me?”

“Of course, I do, but you’re—”

“Yet you try to lead with an excuse, and act like a pouting child when you don’t get your way,” Hermione sighed. “Ginny was right. I never should have asked you to do this in the first place. You don't even believe in marriage, for goodness’ sake.”

“I might! It’s just—”

“Just stop it, Harry!” Hermione’s shout was interrupted by the sound of her phone beeping. “I have to get to my dress fitting with the others. I-I’ll see you tomorrow at the shower.”

A soft pop later, she was gone. Surrounded by statues of angels and saints, Harry stood alone in the churchyard, feeling as if there were no miracles left for him.


	5. Steal the Bride

With nothing else to do, Harry arrived on Ron’s doorstep, hoping for some sage advice. Instead, he got more criticism.

“How in bloody hell did you get fired from being Maid of Honor?” Ron asked incredulously. “It hasn’t even been a week!”

“Tell me about it,” Harry sighed as he flopped onto the couch. “I just don’t know how to fix this. The entire goal was to convince Hermione that I've grown up and that she doesn't know anything about Draco. Instead, I mess up before I even get the chance!”

The fireplace roared to life and Neville stepped out of the emerald flames, having been summoned by Ron’s Jack Russell Terrier Patronus.

“I hear you got fired,” the Herbology professor sympathized.

“Not officially!” Harry protested. “I guess I’m just on really thin ice at the moment. Is Seamus coming too?”

“I’ve been here longer than you,” the man in question announced as he joined them from the kitchen. “And not to kick you while you’re down, but my guy found no dirt on Draco. He’s clean.”

“You’ve _ got _ to be kidding me!” Harry moaned. “Please tell me you’re referencing a dedication to hygiene and _ not _ a lack of skeletons in his closet!”

“Sorry, man,” Seamus apologized. “This has never happened before.”

Harry moaned dramatically as he willed the couch to swallow him whole and end his misery. “Is _ anything _ going to go my way? Or is there a way that this could get worse?” 

“I could tell you ‘e ‘as trois record du monde et une médaille d'honneur?” Fleur suggested as she followed Seamus with a levitated tray of drinks and snacks.

“Hey!” Seamus laughed. “That’s hilarious, because we’ve got the _ Maid _ of Honor right here!”

“Well, that’s just bloody brilliant!” Harry snapped as he scratched his beard in annoyance. “More Maid of Honor jokes. Any other nails in my coffin? I suggest you speak now or forever hold your peace!”

“You’re being très stupide, Harry!” Fleur scolded. “You’re not going to make ‘Ermione believe you’re better zan Draco. Not many people are. You need to convinze ‘er that you’re better for _ ‘er_.”

“I’m sorry,” Neville cut in. “I’m confused. Aren’t you supposed to be on Draco’s side, Fleur?”

“Pourquoi? Parce que nous sommes français?” Fleur asked, affronted.

“No, not because you’re both French. My thoughts were more concerning your relationship with Hermione,” Neville clarified.

“I care about mon amie,” Fleur explained, stirring sugar into her tea. “_Deux de mes amis_. Draco and I knew each ozzer growing up, but we were never close. ‘E was wiz ‘is cousin, Nymphadora, and his close friend, Blaise. My seester and I ‘ad other friends our age. Just because I don’t want Ginny to cause ‘Ermione stress by picking fights wiz ‘Arry, doesn’t mean I support Draco as her groom. I’d much rather she marry _ you _ zan someone she barely knows. ‘Owever, my loyalties firmly lie in supporting _ ‘Ermione_.”

“So what does that mean, exactly?” Harry questioned. He wasn’t going to look a gift _ cheval _in the mouth, but he was desperate for clarification.

“It means zat I’m going to pretend I don’t know you ‘ave ulterior motives in becoming a better Demoiselle d'Honneur for ‘Ermione. I’m going to pretend I ‘ad no idea that giving you zis DVD would arm you with the perfect skills to get into ‘Ermione’s ‘ead and cause ‘er to _ zink_,” Fleur replied as she walked over to the DVD rack and plucked a case from the bottom shelf. “If you want to learn how to be the _ perfect _Demoiselle d'Honneur, Eleanor Grace will show you everyzing you need to know in zis documentary.”

“What’s the catch, love?” Ron asked cautiously.

“I’m zo glad you asked,” Fleur beamed at him. “In exchange for my ‘elp, two zings are going to ‘appen. First, you will never tell a soul I intentionally ‘elped you try to stop the wedding. Secondly, you will put ze twins to bed and assemble ze wedding guests’ gift baskets for me _ tonight _so I can go to bed early. Do we ‘ave a deal?”

“Oui, I mean ‘yes’,” Harry nodded enthusiastically as he plucked ‘Eleanor Grace’s Guide to Being the Perfect Maid of Honor’ from Fleur Weasley’s perfectly manicured hand.

* * *

Two hours and one informative documentary later, Harry and Neville started assembling baskets while Ron stepped out of the room to put his children to bed. Instead of agreeing to help, Seamus stubbornly studied Ron’s DVD collection.

At first, the men were focused on matching Fleur’s sample basket, but struck up conversation once they got the hang of it.

“How about I quiz you on Maid of Honor trivia while we work?” Neville offered. “Time will fly and we can make sure you’ve absorbed everything worth remembering.”

“That’d be great, Nev,” Harry smiled gratefully. “I think I got most of it, but there was just so much information, I’d appreciate a review before the shower tomorrow.”

“I see you paired the Bayberry candle with the Serenity lotion.” Ron observed, peeking into Harry’s basket as he rejoined them. “What's the proper length of the bridesmaid dresses?”

“No longer than the bride’s,” Harry replied after a moment’s consideration. “I thought they paired well.”

“It's interesting,” Ron agreed, “I just thought it was obvious that the Bayberry candles worked best with the Harmony lotion… And Seamus, stop moping and come and curl some ribbon.”

“I thought we’d actually do something interesting after the movie, like play poker,” Seamus argued from across the room.

“We can play poker _ after _ the baskets are assembled,” Neville compromised as he tied some tulle around the outside of his finished basket. “Harry needs our help right now.”

“Quit complaining and grab a basket. It's fun,” Ron grinned at the other two men. “Harry, what are the basic duties of the Maid of Honor?”

“Manage the bridesmaids, carry the ring, and support the bride,” Harry listed.

“And what are _ your _basic duties as the Maid of Honor?” Neville clarified.

“Show Hermione that I've matured, that I can take care of my responsibilities fully, and that I need to destroy the wedding from within,” Harry grinned. 

“I can literally feel my sperm dying inside of me,” Seamus groaned.

“You know what I like?” Neville ignored Seamus as he glanced at Ron’s basket. “I like how you put the bath ball right in the center. That’s Zen.”

“You think?” Ron asked.

“Definitely,” Neville agreed. “I like that so much that I'm gonna see your ball and raise you another ball.”

“I'm going to a strip club to eat some meat,” Seamus announced. “Call me when you find your balls, Harry. Or maybe they're in the basket, next to the Harmony candle?”

“Someone’s afraid of his feminine side!” Ron retorted back. Seamus threw the finger before Disapparating. Instead of being upset that he left, Harry just felt gratitude for his other two lifelong friends as they continued to support him.

“Have I ever thanked you guys for being awesome?” He asked seriously.

“Not often enough, if you ask me,” Ron laughed. 

“What brought that on, Harry?” Neville asked.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “I just felt like making sure you knew I appreciated your friendship.”

“Getting a tad sappy, aren’t we?” Ron observed. “Did that video rewire your brain or something?”

“I’m with Ron on this one,” Neville admitted with a small laugh. “Just spit it out, mate. What are you really trying to say?”

“Do you remember when we were little?” Harry asked after a moment. “We’d talk about how we’d always be as close as my dad and his friends are?”

“I remember that!” Ron grinned. “We used to say we’d be the next generation of Marauders!”

“We were so young then!” Neville reminisced. “We couldn’t have been more than seven. What made you think of that now?”

Harry hesitated before deciding to come clean. “Before I say anything else, I want to be clear that I do _ not _ think of Seamus in any negative way. He’s just as irreplaceable to me as you guys are, but I kinda noticed something when he left.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron questioned.

“I just realized that we succeeded,” Harry admitted.

“What are you talking about?” Neville questioned. “The four of us are nothing like your dads.”

“Aren’t we?” Harry fired back. “Think about it. The three of us were as thick as thieves before we got to Hogwarts. My dad became fast friends with Sirius and Remus on the train, and Peter joined their gang of misfits when they all shared a dorm.”

“Now that you mention it,” Neville realized, “That _ is _ how we grew close to Shay.”

“And he does have a tendency to try to cause fights,” Ron realized. “But if he _ is _ Peter in the earlier days, which of the Marauders would I relate to?”

“That’s obvious to everyone but you, Ron,” Neville laughed. “You’re just like Sirius. Determined to stand out, sickeningly loyal to his spouse, and always there to crack a joke!”

“You’re like Remus, Neville,” Harry told him. “Reasonably calm and willing to help his friends keep a level head, but _ easily _pulled into our shenanigans! A Hogwarts professor, too.”

“Then Harry would be like James, wouldn’t he?” Ron rationalized. “Always there for his friends, cocky, a criminal flirt, and hopelessly in love with his incredibly smart witch.”

“Let’s just make sure Hermione doesn’t leave me the way my mum left my dad,” Harry sobered slightly.

“Are your parents still refusing to tell you why they got divorced?” Ron asked, tying off the tulle around the last basket.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded as he cracked a beer. “I might be able to prevent it from happening with Hermione if one of them would just _ tell _me what happened, but even Remus and Sirius are sworn to secrecy.”

“You should try asking again,” Neville suggested. “Considering what’s going on with Hermione, they may open up?”

“I’ll think about it,” Harry promised, waving his wand and shrinking the finished wedding favor baskets. Another flick and they stacked themselves carefully in a shoebox for Fleur to pack later in her luggage.

“Look at us sentimental saps,” Ron laughed as he cracked a beer of his own. “It must be because we’re so tired — we’re delirious.”

“When the hell did it become two in the morning?!” Harry exclaimed, checking his watch. “I’ve gotta get to bed! I’ll see you guys later!”

Neville and Ron waved as Harry quickly dove into the Floo so he could get some sleep before he was expected to prepare the best bridal shower in history. No pressure.

* * *

The following evening, Harry opened the doors of his home for Hermione’s wedding shower — a move that was very out of character for him since he _ never _ had women over to his place. He felt it gave them the wrong impression — that they meant more to him than they actually did. In fact, the only woman who’d ever set foot in his home was Hermione, because he used to believe she didn’t count.

Grinning widely, he opened the door to welcome the bride, her mother, and the other bridesmaids inside. 

“Ladies,” he greeted them warmly, ushering them in. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Harry,” Hermione looked around in wonder. “Did you do _ all _ of this?”

The living room was decorated beautifully. What was normally a man’s pigsty was now a spotless room decorated with garlands of flowers. The girls were equally impressed, telling him so as they made themselves at home and started snooping around.

“Hey, Harry,” Ginny called from his room. “Where in the world do you keep your dirty magazines?”

Harry rolled his eyes. Attempt at sabotage much? “They’re outside,” he replied, smiling innocently. “In the bin. If you’re looking for some entertainment, I can play music?”

With a flick of his wand, the sweet croonings of Celestina — accompanied by a violin — filled the apartment.

“This is… Harry, I’m very impressed. This is beautiful,” Hermione told him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

“I just want you to know that I’ve taken this very seriously,” he replied, trying hard _ not _ to remember their embrace in the alley. “I’ve grown up a lot, you know, and I just want you to have nothing but the best.”

“I'm very, very impressed,” Hermione beamed at him. “Thank you.”

Harry’s heart flipped.

“Look at this spread!” Jean’s surprised shout came from the kitchen. “Did you spend all day cooking, Harry?”

“Did you?” Hermione turned to him in surprise. He placed a hand on her back and guided her to the kitchen.

“Like I said,” he smiled. “You deserve the best.” 

Hermione’s jaw hit the floor at the spread in front of her. Harry had cooked bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin, with a green bean casserole and potato gratin with cheese and bacon. Her mouth watered at the sight.

“You didn't have to do all this for me,” she explained with wide eyes as she accepted a glass of her favorite wine from him. “I mean… look at all of this!”

“Of course I did,” Harry waved his hand in dismissal. “The perfect Maid of Honor does everything he can to make his bride’s life easier.” 

Hermione beamed at him gratefully, before a frown graced her face.

“I wouldn't even know where to begin if I was supposed to host a party like this at Draco’s,” Hermione worried at her lip. “I’m so out of my depth. How do you even pick out what plates to serve with? I got so confused—” 

“You started registry shopping?” Harry gasped. “Without me?”

“Mum wanted it to be just us,” Hermione consoled him quickly. “We went earlier today.”

“When choosing a china pattern,” Harry replied seriously, as if he were teaching a class, “You need to think about what type of entertaining you're open to, foods you wanna cook… Look,” he suggested as he took out his own china set and started juggling three dishes to the panic and confusion of the other girls. “Don't be afraid to mix and match. It's important, even with different styles and textures. For example, I have a green dinner plate, blue salad plate, and red soup bowl. What you want to do is stir up the table. Make it come alive with color and tenacity. That's the goal.” He smiled as he calmly plopped the dishes down onto the table, stacking them at one setting, then waving his wand and duplicating the setting around all of the other chairs.

All four women stared at him, slack- jawed.

“I guess you’re not completely useless,” Ginny observed in slight admiration, folding her arms.

“Thank you, Ginny, that means a lot,” Harry replied with a genuine smile, when all he craved in that moment was snark back at her. “If you think I'm good with plates, wait till you see what I can do with linens.”

“Oh, mon Dieu!” Fleur called from the other room. “Regardez! Look what Draco’s owl just brought for ‘Ermione.”

She came prancing into the kitchen carrying a box. All the girls squealed in excitement as Hermione blushed.

“‘For: Hermione’,” Luna read from the provided card. “‘Hermione, my love, this is an extremely rare first edition of Shakespearean sonnets. I hope this symbol of love reminds you of my feelings for you.’”

Harry had never felt more ill to his stomach than he did at the saccharine message. The other girls obviously didn't share his sentiment as the sounds of their collective _ ‘awwwws’ _ filled his home.

“Oh, my gosh! When we first met, Draco promised that he would tear apart the libraries of the world to find me one, and he did,” Hermione smiled happily as she clutched the precious tome to her chest.

“Sweetheart, that's the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Jean smiled as she hugged her daughter.

“Thanks, Mum.”

Harry quickly served dinner, in an effort to change the subject. He was briefly successful, and dinner itself went swimmingly. When the girls started congregating in the living room afterwards, however, he felt his stomach sink.

“Come on, Hermione!” Ginny grinned evilly at Harry. “It’s time to open presents!”

“Presents?” Harry asked shocked. “But she hasn’t finished her registry.”

“She doesn’t need a registry for lingerie!” Ginny beamed in triumph as she dragged Hermione to sit with the others.

“But doesn’t that happen at the hen party?” Harry almost begged.

“Oh, come on!” Hermione protested. “You'll be able to pick out something for the wedding night.” 

“You’ve _ got _ to be kidding me!” He protested.

“You're the perfect person for this job. Who's taken off more lingerie than you? Let's put your "whore-ing" to good use,” Ginny teased.

“But how would he be able to tell from the hanger?” Luna wondered aloud. “Should Hermione try them on?”

“YES!” Ginny and Fleur yelled in excitement.

“I’m strongly vetoing that,” Hermione threw her two cents in. “But I am excited to open up the gifts.”

Ginny, Luna, and Fleur screeched in excitement. Her mother laughed heartily, sitting back comfortably on the couch. 

Harry felt his heart sink as Hermione unwrapped multiple colors of lace, briefly lamenting that he’d never be able to see her in them. She’d still marry Draco at this rate.

“Well, Harry,” Ginny prompted. “Did you have a gift for Hermione?”

Harry clenched his jaw. He _ did _ have a gift for her, but after Draco’s…

Looking around, he realized he had no choice. He stood up and went to his wardrobe. Reaching toward the top shelf, he pulled down a carefully wrapped gift, sighing loudly as he held it. He rejoined the ladies, noticing Jean give him her inquisitive stare. Retaking his seat, he carefully handed the parcel to Hermione.

“It’s _ not _ lingerie,” he explained quickly as she started unwrapping the gift. “But I saw it and knew you’d appreciate it.”

“I’m sure I’ll lo—” Hermione’s default compliment was cut off as her jaw dropped and she tapered off into a whisper. “Harry…”

“What a lovely book,” Luna smiled.

“It—It’s…” Hermione looked like she couldn’t breathe, let alone explain.

“Is zat a first edition of _ ‘Ogwarts: An_ ‘istory?” Fleur exclaimed in wonderment. “‘Arry, ‘owever did you find one?”

“It’s no big deal,” he tried to deflect with a wave of his hand. At the skeptical look on Jean’s and Fleur’s faces, he continued quickly. “Someone at the last Wizengamot party was bragging about how advanced his library would be with that in his collection. He was easily persuaded to exchange it for one of my signed copies of Alice in Wonderland, though. I figured Hermione would appreciate it more than he did.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “I just can’t believe it.”

“It’s enough to know you like it,” Harry replied bashfully.

“Is that the time?” Luna wondered aloud. “It’s late, isn’t it?”

“Oh, my goodness!” Hermione gasped as she frantically scrubbed at her cheeks. “I have to leave early in the morning! I have to get home!”

The other girls agreed and quickly exited via the Floo. Harry insisted on seeing Jean into a cab downstairs, Hermione joining them as Harry paid the driver. She suppressed a shiver at the cold air, wrapping her arms around her chest.

“Harry, you were amazing today, you know that?” She said as her mother’s cab pulled away from the curb. “I really appreciate everything.”

“Nothing but the best for you,” Harry replied honestly. “I’m just glad you had a good time.”

“I had no idea you could juggle like that. Women, yes. China, no.” Hermione teased. “My Portkey leaves from my apartment first thing in the morning, so I’ll see you in France soon, okay?”

“I’ll be there before you know it,” Harry promised, giving her one last hug as she pecked him on the cheek. A moment later, he was alone on the street.

_ I gotta go talk with Dad... _

“Hey, Dad,” Harry called out, stepping out of the Floo into Potter Manor. “Are you home?”

“In the living room!” James called back. “Moony and Padfoot are here.”

“Hey, guys,” Harry nodded as he walked in. “How’re you?”

“I’m doing well, Harry,” Remus smiled. “You?”

“Grab a chair,” James ordered. “We’re playing poker.”

Harry obliged and Sirius dealt him in. They got through a round — which Remus won — before Sirius got down to business.

“Spill, Prongslet. What’s wrong?”

“I've never felt like this before. So hopeless.” Harry admitted.

“Tell me again_ why _ you agreed to be the Maid of Honor?” Sirius snorted.

“Because _ someone _ told me to be!” Harry rolled his eyes at his uncle’s immature behaviour. “I just… I wanted to be with her and make her happy. But mostly, I wanted to figure out some way to get her off of him. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he's better for her than me.”

“You can’t think that way, Harry. No one is perfect,” Remus protested.

“Except maybe me,” Sirius joked, taking a swig from his glass. “And this whisky!” 

“It was a gift from Harry,” James smiled as he dealt another round.

“Yeah. Draco’s distillery produced it,” Harry frowned.

“Swell,” Sirius mused, smiling at the bottle in appreciation. “Sounds like you _ do _have problems to worry about.”

“Great. Thanks, Padfoot. That’s really helpful.” Harry stood up to pace out his frustration as the older men politely put their hands down to focus on their son.

“I can't do it,” he decided after a few minutes. “I can't watch Hermione marry this guy. She's moving to France, I've lost her already. I can’t watch her walk down the aisle.”

“‘If you love something, set it free,’ said by a pussy, and used by pussies ever since,” James said.

“I’m sorry, _ what_?”

“You know, Harry, I've only truly been in love once. Most amazing woman in the world. She was my best friend.”

“Hey!” Remus and Sirius chorused, one pouting dramatically, the other clearly offended.

“You guys knew that, so shut up! I was young, stupid, and I messed it up. In my great list of mistakes,_ that _was the greatest.”

“Who was this?” Harry questioned, despite feeling he knew the answer already.

“Your mother,” James smiled sadly, confirming Harry’s guess. “When I finally realized how stupid I was and decided to fight for her, I was too late. She wouldn't take me back. She had already married Severus and he was — _ is _— good for her. And then it really was too late.”

“What happened?” Harry asked. Neither of his parents had ever told him why they dissolved their marriage. They had never really spoken about each other; all he knew about them at that age he’d learned in History of Magic.

“Harry, it’s really not a happy—” Remus tried to caution him but was stopped by James.

“He’s twenty-five, Remus. He loves us both. With this situation surrounding Hermione, he needs to know before it’s too late,” James told his friend. At Remus’ accepting nod, he continued.

After gaining hero status as He-Who-Stabbed-The-Dark-Lord, James’ ego had inflated to intolerable levels in Lily’s eyes. It had only taken six months before she couldn’t take it anymore, and she walked out. When she found Severus had been the one to warn Dumbledore, she had gotten in contact and they had quickly fallen in love. Before James fully realized what was going on, he was divorced and his ex-wife remarried. 

While Lily had a hero status of her own, she and Severus had decided to settle in a small terraced house in Cokeworth to be near their Muggle families. Harry would visit on weekends when he was really little, and then spend one month with each parent once he started at Hogwarts. Since he was the heir to a major wizarding family, and she had a job at a local apothecary with long hours, Lily offered James weekday custody when Harry was little so that he could raise their son in the traditional ways in order for him to eventually inherit his seat on the Wizengamot. One thing Lily and James always agreed upon was the love they had for Harry, not wanting him to be torn between them. The other thing they decided was that their major hero status should _ not _ affect Harry’s life.

“You know your mother loves you more than anything, Harry, but she couldn’t stand me by the time the war was over. She would have fought me for more time to raise you herself if it wasn’t for her job. We decided it made more sense for you to spend Mondays through Thursdays with me, Fridays through Sundays with her. From what I hear, she and Severus are still happy together.”

“Professor Snape was a great teacher. Occasionally brusque, but good at what he taught,” Harry remembered. “I won’t lie though, holidays were weird.”

“What James_ isn’t _ telling you is that Severus may be good at potions, but he wasn’t the best friend to Lily when we were students,” Remus added, the only one of the Marauders to stay in contact with Lily after the divorce. They had been close in school and remained friends, and Lily always insisted on brewing his Wolfsbane potion free of charge.

“Fucking miracle he won her back, if you ask me,” Sirius griped. He had never liked the greasy-haired Slytherin.

“My _ point, _ Harry, is that, even when a man is dishonored in a woman’s eyes, his _ actions _ may redeem him. I was an arrogant prick to your mother when we were kids, but I dialed it back and won the girl when we were seventeen. It was that same arrogance which made me lose her again after the war.”

“He knows?” Remus muttered to Sirius, surprised. “I didn’t realize he actually knew how vain he was.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter at his uncle’s barb.

“Hey! I stabbed Moldy-Shorts with my antlers, don’t think I won’t go after you both as well!” James snapped back with a glare. “Harry, you know we both love you, okay? It would have been great for you to have both of your parents around all of the time, but Lily can’t stand me anymore. As much as it pains me to admit it, Severus was the one who grew up the most out of the pair of us.” 

“Severus messed up their friendship with his words, but he quit Voldemort’s side to warn James and Lily,” Remus explained. “That action, and his apology to Lily later, is what prompted your mother to forgive your step-father’s childish bigotry and give him a chance.”

“Moony is right. If you go and _ tell _Hermione how you feel, you’d stand a much better chance of winning her back,” Sirius smiled.

“Now go get her, you pussy!” James smirked at his son.


	6. Arriving in France

A few days before the wedding, Harry boarded the plane to France with Ginny, Luna, Fleur, and Jean.

If he thought that his interactions with them had been weird before, it was nothing in comparison to how he felt now. Jean and Fleur were comfortable in one row while the other three bridesmaids sat together.

With Ginny sitting by the window, Luna in the middle, and Harry on the aisle, it was all Luna could do to keep Ginny from killing Harry. Instead they were subjected to rambling tales of the ‘creatures’ only their _ unique _ friend could believe in. 

He had never felt so relieved when the plane landed in Paris. From there, the five members of the bridal party simply had to take a Portkey to the western French region of Poitou-Charentes, to the Malfoy’s home, Château de la Roche Courbon. Upon arrival, all were speechless. When Harry had read ‘chateau’, he had expected a large mansion or manor. What he had _ not _expected was the beautiful castle he was faced with.

As soon as the shock wore off, Luna, Fleur, and Ginny started chattering in excitement as Jean took a moment to recover from her first trip by Portkey.

“This is like a fairy tale!” Luna observed with a sweet sigh. “Hermione is _ so _lucky!”

“We’ll ‘ave to come visit her often,” Fleur agreed with a smile.

“Hey, Harry,” Ginny called his attention. “Where’s your castle?”

“Up my arse,” he muttered, smiling widely as he called out, “It’s called Cannon Stadium. Have the Harpies built their own home base yet?”

They all jumped in surprise as a house-elf popped into place next to them.

“Hello, ma’ams and sir! My name is Dobby. I is Master Draco’s elf. Please let me take your bags to your rooms!”

Harry internally groaned. Even the bloody house-elf spoke English perfectly. 

“Thank you, sir, that’d be lovely,” Luna smiled sweetly at the elf. Dobby looked shocked.

“Sir? I’m simply Dobby, ma’am,” he replied and blushed. “If Dobby may say, Dobby likes Miss very much. Dobby shall get some biscuits for the misses and young sir to enjoy on your tour.”

“Tour?” Harry tried to question, but Dobby had already popped away.

“Of course there’d be a tour,” Draco smiled as he walked up behind them, Hermione beaming on his arm. An elegant older couple walked beside them. 

Harry was shocked at Hermione’s appearance. Her hair was plaited over her shoulder and she wore an emerald _ gown _ that hugged her figure at her waist and flowed loosely around her knees.

“‘Ermione,” Fleur sighed in appreciation. “J’adore what you ’ave done to your wardrobe!”

Hermione left Draco’s side to move towards her mother.

“You look lovely, darling,” Jean smiled at her daughter. Harry frowned when he realized the smile didn't reach her eyes. It seemed she wasn’t as happy as she was trying to convey. 

Draco stepped forward to take his place back at Hermione’s side.

“Hello, Dr. Granger. It’s wonderful to see you again.” Draco kissed the back of Hermione’s mother’s hand in greeting. “I’m so happy you could make it here. Please allow me to introduce my mother, Narcissa, and my father, Lucius.”

Draco indicated to the older couple behind him as they stepped forward. Narcissa Malfoy’s black and silver hair was twisted into a chignon, accented by her emerald jewelry and grey and green summer dress. Draco’s father, Lucius, wore his long silver hair tied at the base of his neck and was dressed much like his son in a crisp, white Oxford shirt and black slacks. The only difference being Lucius was also wearing his formal robes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lucius smiled as he stepped forward, also kissing the hand of Hermione’s mother.

While he had originally supported Voldemort in the war, Narcissa had quickly squashed that bigotry in him. She had been appalled when her father had cast her sister, Andromeda, out of the family for marrying a Muggle-born. The two had always been close, while their other sister Bellatrix followed the fanaticism of their family.

Narcissa insisted that Lucius move their family to their French home when Draco was born so she could be closer to her sister. Her ulterior motive had been to take him away from the blood supremacy mindset, and it had worked. He was unrecognizable as the wizard he had once been and was now a family man through and through. His secondary passion, however, was still whisky, so he ran his own distillery with Draco whenever he wasn’t trading stocks. 

When Voldemort fell, and Bellatrix imprisoned, Andromeda and Narcissa had breathed a sigh of relief and focused on raising their children together. Draco’s best friends growing up had been his cousin, Nymphadora, and their neighbor, Blaise Zabini. The childhood sweethearts had married a few years earlier, and now had a delightful son named Theodore.

“I have been so looking forward to meeting you all,” Narcissa smiled.

Once the families were introduced, Draco motioned for their friends to step forward.

“Mother. Father. I want you to meet Hermione’s Maid of Honor, Harry.”

The Malfoys exchanged a look that Harry could easily read as skepticism. He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised when Lucius whispered to Narcissa — after shaking his hand — that he thought Harry was definitely gay.

“And these are her bridesmaids, Ginny and Luna. You’ve already been acquainted with Fleur, I believe?” Draco continued before his parents could comment further.

“Mademoiselle Delacour!” Narcissa beamed. “Bienvenue.”

“C’est ‘Weasley’ maintenant, Madam Malfoy,” Fleur smiled politely.

“Mais, oui. Pardon,” Narcissa apologised. “Vous être marié, félicitations à vous.”

“Merci,” Fleur replied, her face lighting up. “Sept ans… et plus.”

Both Malfoys received the waiting Luna and Ginny warmly, Narcissa instantly returning to fluent English.

“How about a tour of the castle and gardens?” She suggested happily after the introductions were covered.

“I’d love to join you, but I have business for the festival,” Lucius apologized. He kissed his wife’s cheek and nodded at the others before Apparating away.

“Not to make a fuss, mais je suis malade,” Fleur admitted to everyone’s surprise. “I’d hate to be a bother, but would you mind if I rested a moment before joining you? The Portkey turned me about more than expected.”

“Of course not, dear!” Narcissa exclaimed. “Dobby shall take you to a quiet parlour.”

“Oh, zer is no need for zat, Madam Malfoy,” Fleur replied graciously. “I just need a few minutes and I’ll catch up wiz you. Your gardens are always so lovely.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked politely. “You don’t need to stress yourself.”

Sensing her rising annoyance, Harry quickly cut in. “Hermione’s told me all about the castle when she first heard of your library’s wonderful find. I’d be happy to accompany Fleur for a brief cup of tea in the shade as her stomach settles?”

“Excellent!” Narcissa clapped her hands. “The pair of you rest and Dobby will lead you to us whenever you’re able!”

At the mention of his name, Dobby reappeared with his promised plate of biscuits. Fleur snatched up a stomach soothing one and nibbled on it immediately. A few eyebrows were raised but no one commented… yet.

Draco — ever the gentleman — stepped forward to offer his mother his arm. Hermione followed his lead and linked arms with her mother. _ Was she always this thin? _ When she turned to check on Fleur, she saw that Harry was already escorting her over to a bench in the shade. She beamed in gratitude at him, despite the fact he wasn’t even looking at her as the rest of the group walked off.

It only took Fleur a few minutes to recover, but Harry appreciated the time it gave him to recompose himself. Once she had more color in her cheeks, he also offered Fleur his arm and they left the shaded alcove to catch up with the others.

“The Château de la Roche Courbon is one of ze most important and well-preserved medieval castles in France,” Fleur filled him in as they walked. “The estate generates zousands of Galleons a year for charity. Alas, zis was not always ze case. Before our family bought the castle and lands a few generations ago, it ‘ad fallen into disrepair. It wasn’t until ze late nineteenth century zat ze Ministère Français identified zeese grounds as some of ze most important. Lucius’ grand-père wanted a name for himself at ze time, so he bought ze lands and paid for ze renovations.”

“Today, Non–magique and Wizarding visitors enjoy a series of curated events and activities year round,” Narcissa added as Harry and Fleur caught up.

“The largest one is undoubtedly the Fête Médiévale,” Draco continued. “The fête is one of the most anticipated events of the year in this region of France for both Non–magique and wizarding folk. As the name suggests, it’s a festival celebrating all things medieval, from drinks, food, and even games. I’m so excited that the highlight this year will be our wedding.”

“You wouldn't believe how crazy the planning has been!” Hermione gushed. “Last night Draco and I had to be dressed up for a parade! Tomorrow afternoon the games are happening, but today they’re still setting everything up, so you’re free to tour around the castle.”

“There is a museum on the property that is entirely free to enjoy, as well as our personal library,” Narcissa informed them. “You’re all welcome to explore either.”

“I think I’d like to tour the gardens a little longer, then read for a bit,” Luna announced.

“The wedding is only a few days away and I have to finish up a few details on the dresses,” Ginny commented. “Is there anywhere I could work?”

Draco nodded and snapped his fingers. Dobby appeared before them and listened intently to his young master’s request. Hermione frowned at the reminder that Dobby was Draco’s house-elf, but quickly masked it.

“Of course, Master Draco,” Dobby replied. “Dobby lives to serve the House Malfoy. Dobby shall take Young Miss to a drawing room to work.” He held out his tiny hand to Ginny and, in a second, they were gone.

“How about we sit and catch up in the gardens with some tea?” Narcissa suggested to Jean and Fleur. The women linked arms and swept off, leaving Harry, Draco, and Hermione behind.

“Chérie,” Draco turned to his fiancée. “I hate to leave you, but—”

“Go work on the preparations,” Hermione said. “I’d like to go over my vows with Harry anyway.”

He pulled her into a kiss so heated, Harry had to suppress the urge to vomit on his fancy Italian shoes.

As the kiss continued, and Harry grew bored, he wandered off and found a sweet Australian sheep dog resting in the shade. He quickly knelt to greet the furball. “What's your name?” He cooed as he scratched behind its ears. “You're a pretty dog. I love you.”

* * *

“So... what do you think?” Hermione asked as she appeared behind Harry.

“I think… they think I'm gay,” he chuckled at her amused laugh, giving the dog a final kiss before standing. “Shall we relax and catch up for a bit before we dive back into wedding planning?” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Hermione agreed. “But I wasn’t lying earlier. I could actually use your help with my vows!”

“My lady,” Harry jokingly offered his arm. “Your wish is my command.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” she giggled. She tried to suppress the shiver she felt as her hand circled Harry’s full bicep, but her heart sped up anyway as they took a stroll through the gardens.

For the next two hours, the best friends enjoyed their momentary reprieve. Hermione found herself relaxing in Harry’s comforting presence. Reminded of their familiarity, they slowly found themselves gravitating towards each other until their bodies were practically flush as they walked.

When Harry saw a fountain, he didn’t hesitate before dragging Hermione over to sit for a break.

“So all of this… it’s a lot, huh?” He asked, finally breaking their silence.

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful?” Hermione beamed as she looked around.

“Yes, it is.” 

His meaning would have been clear to anyone besides, _ except _Hermione.

“Do you think we could work on my vows now, Harry? I could use some advice.” Hermione smiled expectantly. 

He felt his stomach drop, but nodded all the same.

“Excellent! I've been working on them all week and I actually think they're getting worse.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Harry teased. “The Hermione Granger I know is perfect at everything!”

“Ha. Ha. You, more than anyone, know I’m not! It’s just — at first I went for the emotion but, then I thought, what if Draco doesn’t?”

_ Then he’s a fool_, Harry thought. He almost missed the next part of her anxiety-filled story as she started pacing — _ Something about trying to be funny? _— but he decided to cut her off with his own vow to her.

“I'm crazy about you. I think of you all the time and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he told her seriously.

“Seriously?” She actually paused in her pacing as she considered the words.

“Yes,” he replied simply. Harry felt a brief spark of hope inflate his chest. Maybe… just maybe… she might catch onto his meaning.

“Ugh, Harry! That's so _ generic_!” 

“Wh—_ What_?!” 

“It totally is!” Hermione frowned. “It sounds like something you're _ supposed _to say instead of what you’re really feeling.”

“Alright,” Harry sighed as he stood up and took her hand in his, forcing her to face him. “How about… nobody in the world makes me laugh the way you do. You're my best friend. I just wanna be with you.”

Hermione gaped at him for a moment, completely confused. She had thought they were discussing her potential wedding vows for Draco, but the sentiments didn’t seem to work quite right. It was almost as if Harry were describing his own—

“Hermione!” Narcissa exclaimed happily as she rounded the corner, breaking their reverie, and freezing as she spotted their clasped hands. “Is everything alright?”

“Lady Malfoy!” Hermione called out, pulling her hands from Harry’s to turn towards her future mother-in-law. “Harry was just helping me with my vows. How may we help you?”

Narcissa easily accepted the excuse. 

_ Makes sense, _ Harry thought bitterly. _ I’m supposedly gay after all! _

“It’s me who’s helping _ you _, my dears. We’ll all be late for the evening’s festivities if we don’t hurry!”

“Oh, my! Is that the time?!” Hermione leapt up and chased after Narcissa’s receding form.

Harry paused as he watched Hermione run off. After a moment, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and trailed behind them. 

Another missed chance.

* * *

That evening, the Malfoys hosted a large feast at the festival, with game stands and food stalls for all the guests to enjoy. Everyone had an excellent time admiring the lights and attractions, but by the evening’s end, Jean had more pressing matters she wanted to address with Hermione and was anxious to speak with her only child privately.

Once everyone was safely ensconced in their rooms, she slipped down the hall to her daughter’s suite. 

“Hermione?” She whispered, softly knocking.

Hermione jumped. Sitting at her vanity, she was delighted to hear her mother’s voice calling her.

“Hi, Mum!” Hermione greeted happily upon opening the door.

Jean gracefully swept into the room, her nightgown billowing around her. Despite being Muggle-born, she could put the elegance of some pure-bloods to shame. The way she carried herself made Hermione stand straighter, feeling proud just knowing that this woman gave birth to _ her _.

They made themselves comfortable on the bed before Jean pulled a box seemingly out of thin air. Hermione giggled. Despite being non-magical, her parents had fallen in love over their mutual interest in the art of illusion. She had grown up with coins being pulled from her hair whenever her curls were teased, and flowers produced from sleeves anytime she felt sick.

The whole family was shocked but delighted when the Hogwarts letter arrived with the news that Hermione had _ real _ magic. However, this did not change Hermione’s belief that her mother and father had the actual magic all along — true love and the ability to always make their daughter smile.

Hermione kissed her mother’s cheek as she took the box.

“This is actually a gift from your father,” Jean explained. “He started it when you went off to school, and kept it up until he passed. He always wanted you to have a little piece of home with you no matter where you ended up.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped as she took in the lovely photo album. The gift was already more precious to her than she could hope to convey, and she hadn’t even opened it yet.

Hermione still struggled daily with the passing of her father. The fact she had something that he had made for her, on the virtual eve of her wedding, meant more than she could put into words.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered in appreciation as she opened the pages — each one holding a photograph of her from birth, long before she ever received her Hogwarts letter.

“I love this photo,” Hermione smiled as she pointed to one in particular. She was around the age of three and sitting on the floor in her parents’ library. A single book had just toppled from the shelf and her hands were raised as if she were trying to stop it from hitting her. What she and her mother both knew was that the book hadn’t been _ falling_, it was actually _ floating _ back to its place on the shelf. “My first sign of magic.” 

“I thought it was a trick of your father’s,” her mother recalled fondly. “A silly trick with hidden wires. I didn’t believe him, no matter how many times he denied it. Speaking of which, there’s your camping photo! You were both so young here!”

The picture in question was of a camping and fishing trip Hermione had taken with her father when she was six. She remembered the trip well. She smiled wistfully as her younger self held up a large carp before it had been thrown back into the water. Her father had planned the trip especially for the two of them. “Just me and my girl, right, Hermione?” He had pulled in a few small catches, but Hermione had caught the prize, and her eyes filled with tears as she trailed her fingertips over the twenty year old photograph.

“I miss Dad so much,” she whispered to her mother as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just wish that he could have been here. He was always so worried I was never gonna meet anyone.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Jean assured her daughter as she remained focused on the photo album. Hermione may be blind to what was going on, but Robert certainly hadn’t been. “He always said you’d wind up with Harry.”

“Since when?” Hermione asked, alarmed. She had no idea her father had thought of her being romantically linked to her best friend.

“Just look at you and Ginny,” Jean remarked, ignoring her. She continued to smile fondly as the photos started aging into teenage years. “Oh look, there’s that photo of you and Harry in Italy.”

Hermione didn’t have to look at the photograph in question to know what it showed. She had the same photograph stashed away in a drawer of her filing cabinet back in the bookshop.

At first glance, it was a simple snapshot of a young couple, laughing at a shared joke over wine in a Tuscan vineyard. It looked as if they didn’t have a care in the world, and nothing could ever get between them, but Hermione knew the truth. The love shining in her eyes was easily recognizable to anyone who knew her. 

And her mother knew her well.

“Mum?” 

“I should get off to bed,” Jean said as she left the album open at the photograph of Hermione and Harry. “Goodnight, my angel.” She smiled as she kissed her daughter’s cheek and left the room.

Hermione fell asleep with images of her best friend, instead of her fiancé, filling her mind.


	7. Of Games and Feasts and Stolen Kisses

The next morning, Harry resolved to talk to Hermione

All such thoughts flew from his head, however, when he caught sight of her… well… there were no words.

Harry knew better than most that her hair was naturally unmanageable, but the veritable nest perched on his friend’s head was a new level of insanity. The stylist had twisted different sections of hair into individual buns and mixed them up with braids and flowers. To be honest, it looked like a bird had made itself at home in her hair and tried to decorate with all the flowers in the garden.

“Harry!” Hermione beamed when she saw him, walking towards him with her bridesmaids in tow. “Good morning!”

“Hey, Mia.” He quickly tried to recover as he moved around her hair to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “You ladies having a good morning?” 

He bit his lip hard, trying not to laugh at the expressions on the others’ faces as they fought desperately to hide their disgust at the wooly mammoth on Hermione’s head.

Fleur was the first to burst. “‘Ermione, mon amie, I know zat we’re zupposed to be zupportive, but you look like a moose!”

Harry’s sip of tea went up his nose.

“Or a Murtlap,” Luna replied thoughtfully.

_ “What?” _ Hermione asked, horrified as Fleur took over from the stylist.

“Malfoys always get married with their hair up in the traditional style,” Narcissa answered with a pout.

“Which works well with ze typical sleek hair dans votre famille,” Fleur responded, “But ‘Ermione’s ‘air won’t work zat way!”

“If it can’t be in the traditional style, that’s fine,” Narcissa conceded, studying the messy mass of curls and braids that the stylist had wrung into a nest on top of Hermione’s head. “But it _ must _ be _ up_! And for the dress—”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” Hermione protested.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, dear, but we _ must _add the Malfoy colors and crest. It’s this lovely sash, you see,” Narcissa spoke as if she were bestowing a great gift. She reached for a box which contained an ornately decorated silk sash with the Malfoy family crest on the center. “As you see, dear, it ties around your waist and the ends trail down with your train. It’s very lovely, isn’t it?”

Hermione had the distinct impression that was a statement and not a question. “I’m not quite sure that—”

“But you must wear it, if you want to look like a proper Malfoy bride!” Narcissa insisted. “Since the war, we all know it’s a title more than a status, but my Draco’s practically a duke in our world. His bride should be proud to wear his colors.”

Hermione’s mother opened her mouth to retort, when one of Narcissa’s house-elves came tittering into the room carrying flowing gowns and piles of fabric.

“What’s going on?” Jean asked.

“It’s almost time for the games!” Narcissa gushed.

“The games?” Harry questioned.

“Everyone dresses up and Draco competes in traditional Renaissance games to prove he’s man enough to take me as a bride,” Hermione explained as the hairdresser waved her wand to remove the temporary style. Instantly, her locks bounced down her back. “Once he wins, we’ll have a parade and feast before we all separate for the night before the wedding tomorrow!”

“But what happens if he fails?” Harry wondered aloud.

“The winner of the games is officially the groom, unless he cedes,” Narcissa explained. “Draco would never allow such a slight though.”

“So, if he loses, he won’t be allowed to marry Hermione?” Harry asked surprised.

“Officially, yes,” Narcissa sniffed at the preposterous thought. “Not that there’s a chance my Draco will fail.” She smiled confidently as the women followed her excitedly from the room.

_ Well, Harry, looks like you just found your chance! _He also smiled with confidence as he strolled after the women. It looked like he had some games to win.

* * *

After quickly changing into their Medieval-style costumes, the group joined the outdoor festivities.

“Bienvenue à la cinq cent soixante dix-septième Fête Médiévale!” The announcer’s voice rang out across the property.

“They’ve been holding the festival for over five hundred years?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

“It officially started in the fourteenth century, but wasn’t very popular until the Malfoys took over the estate.”

Fleur quickly translated for the others as the announcer continued. “He’s zaying zat men ‘ave come from all over ze country to compete today, but only one shall win ze prize,” she summarized.

“How does it work?” Harry asked. “How do you win?”

“You’re not going to compete, are you?” Hermione was surprised.

“Of course I am,” Harry confirmed. “They advertised feats of strength and agility, so it sounds like fun!”

It didn’t hurt that Harry obviously had more meat on his bones than Draco. Working out with a professional Quidditch team kept him in top form and he was excited to see what challenges the festival had to offer. 

It just happened to be a coincidence that the winner would get Hermione. Total coincidence. Yeah.

“I’m so excited you’re interested in competing!” Narcissa commented as she and her husband joined the group. “Depending on your interests, you can compete in any number of activities!”

“We wanted it to be as authentic as possible,” Lucius agreed with his wife. “We hold dozens of events, both magical and otherwise.”

“You have magical challenges?” Luna asked, intrigued.

“Bien entendu! Of course!” Narcissa replied, excited. “Namely the final duel!”

“You have a _ Wizard’s Duel _ as an event?” Ginny clarified. “Aren’t those frowned upon?”

“Eet’s not what you zink,” Fleur answered. “Zer are strict rules in place. No one _ dies_.”

“Fleur est complètement correcte,” Lucius confirmed. “We want everyone to have fun, not get hurt. Most of the events are traditional Renaissance and Medieval events. We have archery, weapons sparring, axe-throwing, and several jousting events.”

“Like trying to throw each other off a horse? _ That _ type of jousting?” Ginny asked slyly. Harry thought she looked a little too excited about the thought of him falling off a horse. 

“Only for the experienced,” Narcissa explained. “It’s more a spectator sport than something to try for fun.”

“Will Draco be jousting?” Luna asked.

“My sweet dragon will be competing in many of the events today,” Narcissa responded fondly.

“You know what would be fun?” Ginny asked as a positively evil grin split her face. “What if _ Harry _ competed against him for the honor to marry Hermione?”

“_What_?” They all turned to stare at her.

“All in good fun, Mi,” Ginny promised, holding up her hands. “But Narcissa _ did _ claim that the tradition was the groom had to prove himself worthy of his bride, didn’t she?”

“That’s what I heard,” Harry nodded, agreeing with Ginny, and feeling a little strange at the thought. “And what kind of Maid of Honor would I be if I didn’t offer to fight for yours?”

“Sounds like fun to me,” Draco agreed. “We can keep score of wins in individual events. The man with the highest score at the end wins!”

“And if it’s a tie, we use the combat joust to decide the winner,” Ginny offered eagerly.

“_Or _ we settle it like the wizards we are,” Harry quickly countered. “Through a proper duel.”

“My best friend and future husband are _ not _ going to duel to the death for my hand!” Hermione protested urgently. “That’s barbaric!”

“Would you rather we have a fist fight?” Harry teased, knowing the promise of violence would rile her up further. Before she had the chance to start verbally dressing him down, Draco’s comment stopped her cold.

“Why do you insist on stopping us, chérie?” Draco asked her, confused. “Do you have so little faith in me that you believe I’d lose to your gay _ meilleur ami?” _

Hermione immediately froze. Harry immediately frowned. _ Why _ did the Malfoys insist he was gay?

“I have all the trust in the world in you, Draco,” she insisted. “But why resort to violence like… like... children fighting over a toy?”

“Vous êtes beaucoup plus précieux qu'un simple bibelot,” Draco retorted with a frown. “It has always been a tradition for a man to prove himself worthy of his bride through _ un duel _. Would you really deny me the honor to prove myself worthy of your hand?”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to come up with a response to his argument, but couldn’t find any. 

“Promise me that no one will be seriously hurt, at least?” She requested finally.

“Bien sûr,” Draco agreed, beaming. “No one shall be harmed more than simple bruises.”

“Ze rules?” Fleur asked.

“We each compete in provided events until the Luncheon Feast,” Harry offered. “Whoever has the most points, wins.”

Draco gave his hand a firm shake in agreement.

For the next few hours, Harry put everything he had into the games.

In the moving target challenges, Harry initially hit more moving objects with his arrows but Draco evened their score when he gained more points from throwing axes.

Both wizards got covered in mud when they decided to go head to head in a round of tug-of-war, and then soaked when they tried to knock each other off a log roll.

When they tried to break their tie through a duel with magically blunted swords, neither man came out the victor. While Harry was able to get through Draco’s defenses through sheer force more often than his opponent, the Frenchman was no stranger to wielding a sword. And despite the weapons being magically warded to prevent cuts, they were still iron, and Harry’s ears rang painfully when Draco rapped him over the head. 

“What do we do since there’s a draw?” Hermione fretted, wringing her hands anxiously. “You weren’t _ serious _ about dueling with magic, were you?”

After being quite literally dragged through the mud, Harry was _ very _willing to duel the other wizard. Just as he was opening his mouth to say so, however, Lucius cut him off.

“How about a race? We can release a Snitch within the wards and both men may give chase after five minutes. Whoever catches the Snitch will be proclaimed the victor and we can retire to the feast.

Both wizards agreed. Harry felt confident he’d win from the hours spent on the Quidditch pitch, frequently flying and practicing with the Cannons. Draco spent most of his days distilling whisky, indoors.

How hard could it be?

Thirty minutes later, he had no one to blame but himself when he landed empty-handed. He glared at his opponent, who was celebrating his victory by kissing Hermione fervently. 

How was he supposed to know that Draco had been the star player on his team at school?

* * *

Two hours later, Harry was _ still _ pouting. Already over the festival games, he admitted he should have realized that Lucius would have picked a challenge he knew his son would win. 

No, Harry Only-Child Potter was internally throwing a tantrum because _ he _ had been seated as far away from Hermione as possible at le Grand Festin.

Hermione and Draco were seated at the center of the long banquet table, while Harry was at the very end. He had initially hoped that he would be able to sit near his best friend as her Maid of Honor, but that desire had been quickly dashed.

How was he supposed to make Hermione see that Draco was wrong for her from so far away?

Along the table, Hermione beamed at her fiancé as he serenaded her in his native tongue. Despite her embarrassment at being the sole focus of everyone’s attention, she truly loved the gesture. 

“Pour t'aimer coûte que coûte

Malgré ce mal qui court

Et met l'amour à mort.

Quand je m'endors contre ton corps

Alors je n'ai plus de doutes

L'Amour Existe Encore.”

When he finished, the table burst into applause, and Hermione couldn’t have cared less as she welded her lips to those of her fiancé… again.

_ This _ was the romance and happiness she had always dreamed of.

“C'était merveilleux, Draco,” Edward, Draco’s uncle, praised his nephew heartily from his seat.

“C'était absolument magnifique! Un tel jeune homme talentueux!” Edward’s wife, Andromeda, added in a heavy accent. “La ligne Malfoy a la chance d'avoir un gentleman aussi accompli pour son prochain chef de maison.”

“Arrête ça, ma tante! Tu vas me faire rougir!” Draco ducked his head in embarrassment.

“Alors, quels noms as-tu choisis pour les enfants?” Andromeda asked.

Hermione’s eyes widened. While fairly fluent in French from being close to Fleur, Hermione had difficulty understanding most words through Andromeda’s thick accent. But one word she _ did _ recognize was ‘enfants’. How had Draco’s relations gone from complimenting their nephew on his serenade to talking about children… _ and names? _ Turning towards him for immediate guidance, she was incredibly grateful when he answered for them both.

“We don’t have any baby names picked out since we aren’t expecting, chère tante,” Draco deflected kindly, dropping the subject just as dinner was served. 

“This looks delicious!” Hermione’s eyes were as large as the platters that floated in from the kitchens. “There are so many different dishes! They must have been cooking for hours!”

“All in your honor,” Draco told her lovingly, kissing the back of her hand.

“I’m touched, Draco,” Hermione placed a sweet kiss on his lips in gratitude of the gesture. “I’m not quite sure where to begin!”

Having decided to begin with a serving of the Shepherd's Pie, she started to reach for a serving spoon when she noticed her plate was missing. Turning to her fiancé, her mouth popped open in surprise as she watched Draco fill her plate with salad, quinoa, and a skinless portion of the roasted chicken.

“You’re serving me?” Hermione asked in surprise.

“The lighter things were on my other side and I thought you might want them,” Draco explained as he placed her plate back in front of her, loaded with low-calorie items.

She immediately started tamping down her initial irritation. How was Draco to know she preferred to serve herself if she’d never told him? And he was far too polite to imply that she was overweight, she rationalized. He probably just filled her plate with things his model-figured exes would prefer.

“You’re so considerate,” she thanked him as she dug into her meal, pleased that it was just as delicious as the Shepherd's Pie looked.

The rest of the meal was filled with familial chatter, fun stories and anecdotes about both the groom and bride.

“That was delicious,” Hermione sighed happily once they’d all had their fill. “But you didn’t have to hire such a large catered dinner for me!”

“What are you talking about?” Draco asked, confused. “The house-elves were happy to cook for us.”

Hermione froze, staring at her fiancé in shock. One of her largest recreational passions was petitioning to change the laws regarding the rights of magical creatures — especially the ones with human-level intelligence or greater, like werewolves, centaurs, goblins, and _ house-elves_.

“Dobby and your parents’ elves must have been working for hours,” she edged cautiously. “I hope they didn’t wear themselves out.”

“That’s hilarious, chérie,” Draco laughed as the entrance to the kitchens opened. “Our personal elves don’t work in the kitchen. If they did, how would they have time to assist us?”

“Your… Draco, how many elves does your family employ?” Hermione asked, watching in shock as house-elf after house-elf emerged from the kitchen to remove the platters from dinner and serve dessert to the guests.

She didn’t like the horrible feeling settling in her stomach as she watched Draco cock his head in consideration.

“The estate has several hundred house-elves _ bonded _ to the property for grounds-keeping,” he replied. “And there’s probably at least fifty for the family. And they’re not _ employed _ , per say. They’re _ house-elves_, Hermione.”

_ “Are you… HOW MANY?” _ Hermione cried out in shock, startling the young elf serving her coffee. The poor thing dropped the pot and it shattered, splashing the tablecloth and the hem of Hermione’s skirt. The bulk of the hot drink, however, wound up on the young female elf. “Oh, my goodness! I’m _ sooo _ sorry!”

“Hermione!” Draco exclaimed loudly as he worried over his fiancée. “Chérie, are you hurt?”

“Are you alright?” Hermione heard Harry ask the terrified elf as he materialized beside them. He didn’t hesitate to pull out his wand and casting a diagnostic spell to check the little creature for injuries. “What’s your name?”

“It’s… it’s W-Winnie, sir,” the elf replied as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt the mistress. Winnie is so upset at herself, sir.”

_ “Chérie,” _Draco demanded Hermione’s attention again. “Are you harmed?”

“I’m alright, but what about—”

“Winnie was burned a bit,” Harry answered as he ushered the tiny elf out into the hall. Hermione followed quickly. “I’ll go with her and see what I can do to take care of—”

“I can assure you that she absolutely _ will _ be taken care of!” Lucius promised angrily as he stormed over to them. “Causing a scene at a party and then having a _ wizard _ look after her? We have no need for elves who would risk harming guests while disgracing themselves so!”

“You can’t be serious!” Hermione protested. “It was clearly an accident!”

Harry placed a calming hand one her shoulder. Stepping around her, he faced Lucius.

“With all due respect, sir, but it’s my choice to help her,” he spoke softly, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re supposed to be celebrating my best friend’s upcoming nuptials and I simply wouldn’t be able to enjoy the entertainment if I didn’t make sure Winnie was alright first.”

“Are you questioning how I treat my servants?” Lucius snarled. “This is _ my _ home and _ I _ will treat my elves how _ I _ see fit.”

“It’s not my place to question your interactions with your elves, sir.” Harry nodded. “However, the longer we drag this out here, I’ll begin to question how you treat your guests.” 

“_Father_,” Draco interjected. “We’ve caused a scene over what was obviously an accident. We’re supposed to be celebrating. Let’s just be grateful Hermione wasn’t hurt and let it slide for once.”

“For you,” Lucius conceded as he ushered Winnie away. “At least let me tend to my own staff. Winnie? Let’s get you _ healed _ in the kitchens.”

“Shall we rejoin the party?” Harry offered.

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible,” Blaise, Draco’s Best Man, responded as he joined them in the hallway with his wife, Dora. “While you were all working yourselves into a tizzy, your friends have decided that it’s time to kidnap you away!”

“In a minute,” Draco dismissed them to turn back towards Hermione. “My love, are you truly unharmed?”

“I’m alright, Draco,” Hermione promised.

“I feel it would be unwise if I left now after my family created such a stir,” he admitted. “I don’t want to leave you if you’re upset.”

“I promise I’m okay,” Hermione cupped his cheek. “Go have fun with your friends tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be the one in the poofy white dress, okay?”

Draco beamed at her. “You truly are amazing. I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be the one at the altar.”

“Poofy, white dress,” Hermione grinned. She leaned forward to give him a goodbye kiss, but Nymphadora dragged him away.

“Uh-uh! You’ll have plenty of those later!” She winked conspiratorially. “Let’s the tension build until tomorrow, oui?”

Hermione and Harry waved as the trio left. He waited patiently until they were out of sight before pulling Hermione into his arms. A few tears escaped the corners of her eyes as she clung to him, basking in his constant support and comfort.

“How are you really?” He whispered into the top of her head.

“They have so many, Harry,” she whispered. “Draco said they have _ hundreds_.”

“I know,” he apologized, knowing how deeply it affected her to see any magical creature hurting. “But, if anyone can make their lives better, it’ll be you.”

Hermione pulled back enough to look into her best friend’s eyes. At some point, he had become so very important to her. He made her laugh and always there when she needed him. He had a few flaws, but why was it that she felt more comfortable in Harry’s arms than her fiancé’s?

Harry stared right back into her eyes. Unbidden, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer. Bending his head down, he began to shorten the distance between them, breathing against her skin. Hermione licked her lips nervously; he was so near, her tongue accidentally brushed his mouth.

Eyes dark, their kiss was only beginning when he heard it — a gaggle of girls were giggling ridiculously and calling out for the bride to be. Luckily, he pulled away just as they came into view, laughing loudly.

“I found her!” Ginny cheered as the other bridesmaids came around the corner. “Let's go, let's go! Hermione, let's go!”

“What are you talking about?” She asked breathlessly, before clearing her throat and trying again. “What is this?”

“It’s your Hen Night!” Luna told her happily. “We’re going to give you a proper send-off!”

“What? We’re going out now?” Harry asked baffled. “It’s eight o clock!”

“Yup!” Ginny popped the ‘p’ in finality. “And since we’re in France, we’ll do as the French do! Challenging dares!”

“Okay! Okay!” Hermione giggled, grateful for her friends’ distraction from what had _ almost _ happened between her and Harry. “What _ salacious _ dares are you going to have me do before I’m married off?”

“I’m zo glad you asked,” Fleur grinned evilly. “We talked it over and we ’ave decided to dress you up in old Renaissance attire and parade around one of the bars in town!”

“What?” Hermione protested. “Why do I have to be a spectacle for my Hen Night?”

“Because we’re giving you a proper French and Scottish taking out!” Luna explained enthusiastically.

“I understand the French part because of the dares,” Harry cut in, “but where’s the Scottish part?”

“That was actually _ my _ idea,” Ginny announced proudly. “Once she’s dressed up, we’re going to fill an old chamber pot with salt and sell your kisses for change!”

_"What?!” _

While Hermione was mortified, Harry was positively giddy.

Selling Hermione’s kisses? Harry wanted to kiss _ Ginny _for that dare! He knew it was a horrible idea, but seeing as it may be the only way for Hermione to understand how he felt about her, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide.

* * *

An hour later, the bridesmaids had dressed Hermione up in a periwinkle empire-style gown that cinched just under her breasts and flowed down to her ankles. Her hair was loose and a sparkly plastic tiara rested on her crown. Her cheeks were red from laughing with her friends and Harry noted she had applied a light layer of makeup.

She had never looked more irresistible.

Entering the local wizarding bar that Narcissa had recommended, Ginny hollered out so that all could hear her.

“Hey! It’s this lovely lady’s Hen Party! We’re selling her kisses for change! Come and get it!”

“Ginny!” Hermione laughed, scandalized as she was handed her chamber pot. “Did you really have to _ announce _it like that?”

She was cut off when a patron dropped a few coins in her bucket and gave her a smack on the lips.

“Mademoiselle ‘as ze breath of an angel!” He drunkenly called out, his accent thick and slurred. 

The next thing she knew, she was being paraded around the bar, receiving change and pecks on the lips. At one point, another man borrowed her tiara and his friends gave him joking kisses too. All she could do was laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Next thing she knew, Harry was directly in front of her.

“This is all I have,” he offered, placing a Galleon in her pot. “Hope it’s enough.”

Next thing she knew, his lips were on hers and the world melted away.

Unlike their unintentional embrace in the alley, Harry was deliberate now. He kissed Hermione like she was water and he was parched. He swallowed her whimpers as if they were manna in the desert. And she couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to…

... so she gave up.

The chamber pot clattered to the ground, spilling its contents everywhere, as she threw her arms around his neck. Harry’s arms circled her waist and pulled her flush against him as he backed up, pulling her into a dark alcove.

Across the bar, Jean’s mouth popped open in shock when she saw Hermione kiss her best friend. She quickly ordered a round of drinks for the other girls, hoping to give the couple a bit more time.

Hermione gasped his name as Harry pinned her to the wall. He whispered hers against her lips with the same reverence he’d use if praying. 

Although, if he prayed to Merlin with similar thoughts to the ones going through his head now, he’d be in serious trouble!

Hermione felt as if she were drowning and on fire at the same time. His kisses were deliberate and desperate, and she was matching his passion with equal fervor as her hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. When she felt his tongue trace the seal of her lips, she didn’t hesitate to let him kiss her more deeply.

This would be her goodbye, she decided. She’d use this stolen moment to formally shut away her old crush on her best friend.

“Come back to me,” he ordered. “Stay with _ me.” _

“Harry?” She whimpered against the force of his kiss, gasping when he pulled away to trail kisses down her neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m finishing what we started earlier,” he murmured. “You haven’t listened to anything I’ve said, so I figured I’d have to tell you in a different way.”

“Tell me wh-what… Oh, my gods!” She moaned when Harry cupped her breast.

“Shhh,” Harry chuckled against her lips. “Gotta stay quiet, Mia. Do you trust me?”

Hermione was helpless to do anything but nod. Harry grinned triumphantly as he kissed her again, continuing down her neck as his hands roamed her body.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip tightly to keep her whimpers from escaping, opening them suddenly when she felt him pull away, his eyebrow raised in question.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered, pulling his mouth back to hers. 

That was exactly the response Harry was hoping for as his tongue slid sensually against hers. He deliberately pushed her back against the wall and yanked her dress up. Understanding his intent, Hermione wrapped a leg around his waist as soon as the long fabric cleared her knee. When she felt him supporting her, she wrapped her other leg around him, trusting him not to let her fall.

_ “Hermione,” _ he groaned as he cupped her bum to pull her closer still. Their bodies were already moulded together, but he _ needed _ to get her closer. He needed _ her_. He needed her _ now_, but he knew he couldn’t. 

Not while he knew she was planning on marrying Draco the next day.

Unwilling to let her go, it took a superhuman strength of will to try to slow their kiss, but Hermione was insistent.

“_More_,” she moaned insistently, her hands starting to attack the buttons of his shirt. The sound immediately sent all of Harry’s blood southward and he grew hard against the apex of her thighs. He groaned in anguish as he forced himself to pull away from her and end the embrace instead of Apparating her somewhere private and taking her in the way he craved.

“Hermione… please,” he whispered and she understood the end of their stolen moment in his tone. She carefully pulled away, and he made sure she was steady on her feet before releasing her. They both quickly straightened their clothes before Harry wrapped her in one last embrace.

Sweetly kissing her lips one last time, he pulled away and they left the alcove.

Both jumped when they heard the others calling for them, frantically diving for the abandoned pot and throwing the spilled salt back in. They barely had time to seat themselves at a table before the other girls joined them.

“Where’d you go?” Ginny asked, obviously upset although Harry had no idea why. “We got you both drinks!”

“I was just completing my dare," Hermione answered quickly.

“And I was making sure no one got too handsy,” Harry added.

Hermione’s blush deepened but the others just laughed. Drinks were shared and the group tried to relax and just enjoy spending time together.

Only Jean noticed the new tension between the pair.

A few short hours later, the bridal party was safely ensconced back in the castle. Upon returning, Hermione’s mother had kissed her on the cheek and the bride-to-be had closed the door on her friends’ giggles, certain she’d pass out quickly. Hours later, she still wasn’t asleep.

Frustrated, she paced the floor of her bedroom, doing her best to tell herself that what she was feeling was perfectly reasonable pre-wedding jitters. She felt nothing for Harry anymore, she insisted. _ Nothing_. That kiss had been nothing more than a goodbye. She was going to marry Draco the next day because they were in love and… and he was amazing and nothing on earth was going to stop her. 

_ However... _

Unbidden, her fingers lightly traced her lips.

In all of her kisses with Draco Malfoy, he was sweet, holding her close in an embrace filled with love. The feel of his lips against hers made her feel light, as if he had breathed life into her heart. She felt she could float away just from the feeling. Mechanically, his kisses were controlled, yet sharp and exact. He knew where and how to kiss her well, but it sometimes felt like there was still a barrier between them.

Harry’s kiss was not like that at all.

Hermione had never felt herself melt into Draco the way she had with Harry. If Draco’s kisses inflated her heart with lightness and air, Harry’s set that air on fire, causing her to combust on the spot, helpless to do anything other than melt into putty. In those moments she would have allowed Harry to have her however he desired her.

_ But why does he desire me now? _

Seconds later, Hermione’s opulent princess suite stood empty as its occupant raced across the castle towards the room of her best friend.

At the sound of an urgent knock on the door, Harry stumbled to his feet.

_ Hermione_! He rejoiced as he opened the door to face—

“Ginny? What are you doing here?”

The redhead in question didn’t ask for permission to enter his room. She forced her way in, stumbling with a lack of coordination that told Harry she had been drinking _ a lot_.

“I’m really unhappy,” Ginny slurred. “We should hook up one more time, for history’s sake.”

“Yeah… Ginny, I’m not going to hook up with you. You need to leave,” Harry argued as he tried to push her back out of the room.

“No!” Ginny protested, fighting back with the strength gifted to the inebriated. “We should do it for old time’s sake!”

“Do _ not _take that off,” he ordered. But he was a moment too late as Ginny’s robe dropped, leaving her in a matching set of lingerie and the need of a bitch in heat. 

Oh, she was some bitch, alright. 

Unprepared for her drunken attack, Harry fell beneath her, his bed breaking their fall. Ginny quickly adjusted her position so she was straddling him, doing her level best to remove his t-shirt as he fought to keep it on.

“Ginny, get off me… Get. Off!” He protested angrily as she continued to paw at him. “I’m not going to sleep with you! Get… off!”

“Harrrrreeeyyy, m’not happy,” Ginny slurred as she gave up on his shirt and started fighting with the knot at the waist of his pajama pants. “‘M in a really con… confoo… funny plash in my life righ’ now… Listhen, ‘m had some whishkee and I neeeeed you to servish me.”

“I’m not going to _ service _ you, you daft bint,” Harry argued as he fought against her determined hands.

“Servish me, bitch!” Ginny shouted, slapping him hard across the chest, and stunning him long enough that she was able to rip his shirt a little with the help of her nails.

“Shut up, Ginny!” Harry tried desperately to regain any semblance of control over the increasingly bizarre situation. “Everyone else is _ asleep_.”

A gasp at his door, however, immediately proved his statement wrong.

“Hermione! Shit!” He turned to see her dashing away. “Oh, get _ off me_!” He growled at Ginny, using his legs and hips to force her up and lose her balance. She tumbled to the floor in a drunken heap. Harry didn’t even pause to consider the redhead as he ran out of his room. 

“Hermione, _ wait!_”

He raced after Hermione through the castle, desperate to find her. Unfortunately, she knew the building's layout a lot better and had a good head start. Harry could only think to make his way towards her room and hope that that is where she went. 

He frantically knocked on her door.

“Hermione, please, open up!” He begged. “It’s not what you think!”

“Go away!” 

“I can’t do that,” he argued. “Please let me in.”

“No!”

“Let me explain, Mia. It's not what you think. I swear it.”

“It doesn't matter now.”

“It matters now more than ever, Hermione!” 

She didn’t respond.

“Hermione, I promise I’ll leave if you just answer one question. Okay, Mia? Just tell me why you came to my room?”

“Don’t call me that,” she choked on a sob.

“Hermione.” Harry said her name reverently, realizing in that moment just how much he loved saying it. “Why did you come to my room?

She remained as silent as her answer. Harry knew her well enough to know that she couldn’t control her voice when she was upset, so she rarely spoke when crying.

“Don’t marry him,” he continued. He knew he sounded like a crazy person on the eve of her wedding, but it was all he could think to say. “Please, Hermione. Don’t marry him.”

“Why now, Harry?” Hermione finally broke her silence. “After all of this time, _ why now_?”

“I'm so sorry, Hermione. Please just… I know you don’t trust me right now, but let me in. If you let me in, I’ll fix everything,” he bargained desperately. “If you just open this door, I swear I’ll fix everything.”

“No, Harry,” Hermione’s voice was stronger this time, but still obviously laden with tears. “You're only doing this now because you are afraid of losing me. I need someone who's gonna be there for me, no matter what happens. Someone who truly loves me. Someone I can trust. I'm marrying Draco tomorrow.”

“But you _ can’t_,” Harry protested.

“I _ can_, Harry,” Hermione spat back. “And I _ will _. You’re just scared of losing me. You’ll get over it soon enough.”

Harry sighed as he dropped to the ice-cold castle floor.

“I can't be your Maid of Honor tomorrow,” he told her door. “I can't give you away to him. I'm sorry, Hermione.”

Again, she didn’t respond.


	8. Wedding Day

The following morning, on the dawn of the Summer Solstice, the residents of Château de la Roche Courbon were abuzz and fluttering around hours before the final event of the Fête Médiévale was due to start.

The only resident _ not _ rushing around like a headless chicken was Harry James Potter. Not wanting to see the proof that he had lost his best friend, he spent most of his day strolling through the gardens, only returning to his room when he was certain the wedding party had left for the chapel.

Finding himself alone with nothing else to do, he decided to Floo-call Ron.

“Congratulations, man!” Ron grinned when Harry’s face appeared in his fireplace.

“I never told her,” Harry admitted, sadly. “She just left for the church.”

“What do you mean you haven’t told her?” Ron shouted as he looked down at his friend’s face in the fire as if Harry had just grown three heads.

“I tried to tell her multiple times,” Harry protested. “I tried to tell her while we were walking through the gardens, I tried to confess while she was working on her vows. I even tried to tell her at her Hen Party, but then we kissed and everything went to hell. She doesn’t believe that I truly care about her.”

“No offense, mate, but you have to man up!” Ron argued.

“I know! I know... I just—” Harry sighed.

“What are you in France for?” Ron asked.

“The wine?” Harry tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“I’m done with this bullshit, Harry! Take the shot and bring her home! I’m not kidding anymore,” Ron sighed. “Hermione is one of my best friends too. We all love her. You need to bring her home. Without her, it’s like a part of all of us is missing.”

“I’m just… What if Draco _ is _ right for her?” Harry finally voiced his true worries aloud. “She’s obviously in love with him, and he’s good to her.”

“Yeah, Draco’s great and all, but he’s not _ you_,” Ron replied. “I’ve known Hermione just as long as you have. I also happen to know that she’s been in love with you for _ years_. She just got tired of waiting for you to truly notice her, and Draco showed up to sweep her off her feet. She _ thinks _ she loves him, but she doesn’t. Right now, she’s _ infatuated _with him, but I bet you anything that she’s still head over heels for you.”

Harry’s jaw was on the floor. Since when was Ronald Weasley the bloody voice of reason?

“However, I doubt you really need me to tell you that. The pair of you know each other far better than most people know their own spouses!” Ron continued. “You just have to prove that you’re being sincere and she’ll believe you.”

“I just never found the right time,” Harry sighed.

“Harry,” Ron scolded him angrily, “you don’t seem to be getting it, so I’m going to be blunt. There _ is _ no more time! Hermione is on her way to her _ wedding_! If you don’t stop her now, she’ll be Draco’s _ wife_.” 

But how do I—” 

“You say the _ words, _ you arse!” Ron yelled at him. “Look her in the eyes and say the words ‘Hermione Granger, I love you, marry _ me_.’ She’s known you long enough to know you mean it so she _ should _snap out of it, and everything will be alright.”

“When did you get to be so wise?” Harry wondered.

“When I fell for Fleur,” Ron told him honestly. “Now _ go get her _ and don’t come back unless you bring her with you!”

* * *

The chapel was decorated beautifully for the wedding. Hermione’s girlfriends fluttered around her as they got her ready with any last minute adjustments.

When the time came for everyone to be seated, Jean hugged her daughter tightly and kissed her on the cheek. Narcissa adjusted the emerald sash around Hermione’s waist before patting her hand with a smile. Both women linked arms and left the room so the bridesmaids could have a final moment alone with the bride. 

“‘Ermione, I’m sorry you got into a fight with ‘Arry,” Fleur observed as she tucked a few locks of Hermione’s hair into the braided bun.

“He’s just afraid of losing me,” Hermione insisted. “He’ll eventually get over it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Luna observed breezily. “Don’t you think he’s been acting differently? More mature?”

“I mean… Harry _ has _grown up, but he hasn’t grown up enough… I need someone who's gonna be there for me, no matter what,” Hermione insisted.

“You know we’re here to support you,” Ginny told her. “You’re our friend and we just want you to be happy. Look, Hermione, I saw the two of you last night and… I got jealous. I wanted… I wanted to feel… I don’t know… I got really drunk and tried to seduce Harry, but he wasn’t having any of it. If you’re saying all of this now because you caught us, then you need to know it was _ me _coming on to him, not the other way around.”

“Ginny?” Fleur asked, skeptically.

“I was drunk, okay?” Ginny waved it off but looked around at her friends in earnest. “I remember enough to be embarrassed, but Hermione deserves to know before she gets married. _ I _ pushed him down and he tried to fight me off without hurting me, _ until _ he saw you.” She turned back to the bride. “_That’s _ when he forgot about not hurting me and did everything he could to get to you. If he really was only interested in _ not _ losing you as a friend, do you really think he’d leave a half-naked woman on the floor of his bedroom?”

Hermione stared at her friend slack-jawed.

“I—I don’t know what to say to that,” she confessed.

“I just thought you should know,” Ginny admitted. “The three of us care about you more than anything and just want what’s best for _ you _. If you want Draco, then let’s go get you hitched!”

“Yes. Yes, let’s.” Hermione nodded with a smile and the other girls pretended she wasn’t faking it.

Each bridesmaid kissed her cheek, then entered the chapel to walk down the aisle. Eventually only Hermione and her mother remained.

“Are you ready?” Jean asked her daughter. “You know I’d support you if you wanted to leave instead.”

“No,” Hermione said softly. “The only thing I’m feeling are a bit of jitters,” she confessed. “I love Draco, and I know he loves me the way Dad loved you. I want to marry and live happily ever after with him.”

“Then we should definitely get you inside,” Jean smiled kindly at her only child before leading her into the chapel.

While Hermione’s head was confident she was making the right decision, she could feel her heart sinking as she made her way down the aisle. She shook it off as she made her way towards her fiancé. 

He cared about her and she loved him, repeating the mantra over and over again as she forced herself to smile.

When they reached the front of the chapel, Jean kissed Hermione’s cheek and placed her hand in Draco’s.

“Dearly beloved,” Reverend Foote began. “We are gathered here together today to unite Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy in a celebration of love and magic. If there is any man who can show just cause why these two may not be joined together, let him now speak, or forever hold his peace.”

At that exact moment, the doors to the chapel burst open to reveal an angry wizard... and a horse.

“I object!” Harry stated loudly as he stormed into the little chapel.

At the sound of her best friend’s voice — and a horse whinnying loudly — Hermione spun around in confusion to see a manic-looking Harry Potter leaping off the startled animal and storming down the aisle toward her.

“Why in Merlin’s name is there a horse?” She gasped.

“You took all of the cars,” he replied as if the answer were obvious. “Nancy was the only ride available and I had to get here.”

“Harry, what… what are you doing here?”

She couldn’t look at Draco but Hermione knew his hand was tightening around hers. She pulled away, her steps automatically moving towards Harry as he closed the gap between them.

“I have to tell you something… Hermione, I pride myself with being honest with everybody. But there's somebody I've been lying to for a very long time — myself. Because the truth it's… it's scary, and I was terrified of messing things up and losing you because I’m a disaster. I’ve never had to fight for a girl and it was easy to keep my distance. That all changed ten years ago when I accidentally pranked the wrong girl. That all changed because she wound up being the only girl for me. You fight with me, challenge me, and understand me better than the guys do. I love you, Hermione. I always have. And I always will.”

“Harry Potter… You are the _ worst _ Maid of Honor of all time. Why didn’t you just say that to me earlier? Do you have any idea how bad—”

Harry rolled his eyes as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest. Stumbling on the skirt of her opulent gown, Hermione fell into his chest.

“What are you—?”

“Hermione, I love you.”

Gasping in surprise, she was given no chance to recover before Harry’s lips smothered her own.

Unlike their first awkward kiss, or his desperation last night, Harry forced every ounce of love he felt into this kiss. Hermione was overwhelmed and didn’t even consider fighting back. She willingly threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with a passion rivaling his own.

She used the kiss to tell him how _ she _ felt. He drove her absolutely _ crazy _ . He got her riled up more than anyone else could. He was a terrible flirt and prankster… But she never wanted him to change. She loved him just the way he was. And she loved him _ deeply_.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry didn’t meet her gaze but she felt his arms tighten around her possessively. His emerald eyes were no longer focused on her face, he was staring at something behind her.

“Draco,” she breathed in realization before wriggling her way out of Harry’s arms so she could face her fiancé. “I—I'm… Draco, I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you,” Hermione told him honestly. “You are the most amazing dream I could have ever imagined, but Harry is… and I… Oh, you are the _ perfect _man. Just not the perfect man for me.”

“And you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met,” Draco replied sadly as he took one of her hands. “Which is why I hope you find happiness, even if it means I lose you… Au revoir, chérie.” After a chaste kiss to the back of her knuckles, he let her go. 

As he turned away, Hermione saw him slip something into his pocket and she realized he had taken her ring back.

_ Huh! Just as well, _ she thought. _ While beautiful, the ring had never really fit her anyway. _

While it appeared that Draco had accepted his broken engagement with dignity, the rest of his family certainly hadn’t.

“You're just going to let her leave you… with some _ merde _ about not being perfect?!” Narcissa protested angrily.

“Yes,” Draco said after a brief consideration. “I think I am, Mother.”

Andromeda stepped forward and placed a calming hand on her sister’s shoulder before turning to her nephew.

“Draco, mon cher, je pense que tu te sentirais peut-être un peu mieux si tu as frappé cet enfoiré au moins une fois. N'est-ce pas?” Andromeda suggested simply.

“What’d she say?” Harry asked curiously.

“Honestly? She said I should deck you,” Draco replied. “And I agree with her.”

“That makes sense,” Harry nodded, just before a sharp sting radiated across his cheek.

Next thing he knew, he was on the floor and Draco was shaking out his hand. Hermione was on her knees, panicking over him.

“Harry? Oh, Merlin! Harry! Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry groaned as he sat up. “Might’ve cracked a rib on the pew though.”

“You are officially the _ worst _Maid of Honor ever,” she observed dryly.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “You should probably just pick Ginny for ours.”

Hermione laughed and Harry decided it was the most perfect sound in the entire world. She had chosen him over Draco… 

And everything was finally alright.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the bonus scene for those who read for the E-rating.

Years later, Hermione Potter made sure the doors and windows were locked up tight before turning off the downstairs light. Briefly stopping by the nursery, she smiled at the peaceful expression of sleep on her child’s face. Fondly running her fingers through her son’s black messy hair, she leaned down to give the sleeping toddler a kiss before leaving his room as well.

Entering her bedroom, Hermione smiled fondly at the vision of her husband sprawled on the bed, grateful that Harry had left the lamp on for her until she got into bed. Flicking off the light, she slid under the sheets and blankets, gratefully snuggling into their warmth. Seconds later, she felt Harry’s arms band around her waist, tugging her into his chest. Adjusting herself to be in a comfortable position, Hermione relaxed, ready for a good night’s sleep.

That theory was quickly disproven when Harry started kissing her neck.

“_Harry_!” She groaned softly. “Your son woke me up too early! I need to sleep!”

“It’s funny you mention him,” he grinned between kisses. “Because I was thinking we should give him a little brother or sister.”

Hermione was instantly awake.

“You _ what? _” She whispered incredulously as Harry pulled her flush against him so she could feel his growing arousal.

“I. Want. Another. Baby,” he insisted between laying scratchy kisses on her throat. She shivered as the feeling of his beard against the sensitive skin of her neck. “And I know you’ve been talking about wanting one. A little birdy told me.”

“What—” Hermione tried to clear her suddenly dry throat as Harry’s rough palms started pulling at the skirt of her nightgown, giving his wandering hands access to her bare thighs. “What made you want to… to… Oh, Harry, _ don’t stop!_”

“Wasn’t planning on it, love,” he promised as he rolled her and moved so he was hovering over her.

Wasting no more time, he bent down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Hermione opened up for him without any restraint. Since their first real kiss at her _ first _ Hen Night, she had craved him and his fire. Reaching up, her fingers tangled into his mop of hair and she pulled him closer.

“I love you,” Hermione whispered when they pulled apart for air. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Harry swore against her mouth.

Hermione’s fingers left her husband’s face to travel down his neck. She was so happy that he preferred to sleep naked as her fingers raked through the coarse black hair sprinkled across his pecs. Following the path of his muscles, her fingers twitched when they reached the dip of his belly button. Ignoring his happy trail, she reached behind to cup his firm ass instead, and he jumped slightly at the sudden grip, tearing his mouth away from hers.

“Looking for something?” He drawled amused, intentionally not touching her further.

“Hmmm,” Hermione pretended to ponder as feather-light strokes traced along his back. She knew the barely-there sensation could drive him just as wild as if she were gripping him tightly with her nails. A slow grin spreading across her face, she pulled him into another passionate kiss. “If you really want to know… my husband promised me a new baby, and I kind of like the idea of having more pregnant sex with him _ soon_.”

His eyes dilated further and he started breathing heavily as her foot started rubbing his calf. Her grin widened further knowing she’d won. Harry had made it _ very _ obvious that, instead of being turned off by the sight of her protruding midsection during her first pregnancy, he’d found his wife _ irresistible _ when she was large with his child.

“You’re sure?” He had to ask to be certain. “If you say yes, I swear you won’t be leaving this bed anytime soon.”

She laughed at that. “Oh, love,” she smiled innocently. “That’s so sweet. You think you’re the one keeping me here, when you should have realized it’s obviously the other way around!”

“_Sweet Morgana_,” he cursed as he felt her knee brush against his hip. “Fuck, I love you! I love you more and more every day. Everytime I think I can’t love you more, you prove me wrong. I’m so sorry that it took me so long to realize the truth.”

Hermione pulled him to her for another kiss. “If you want to make it up to me, you should try to kiss it and make it better?” She suggested slyly.

“Should I?” Harry asked, catching on immediately. “And where should I start?”

“You could start by helping me get a little more comfortable?” She teased with a laugh, which turned into an indignant gasp a moment later when he shredded her nightgown. “You didn’t have to _ rip them, _ you brute!”

“They were in the way. I’ll buy you more,” he promised, kissing his way from her mouth to that special spot just below her ear which made her forget how to breathe. “Am I getting the right spot?”

Despite her vision going blurry with desire and her ears pounding from pumping blood, she shook her head. “Lower.”

Harry’s tongue traced its way down to the base of her throat, where he insistently sucked at her pulse until a red spot blossomed. Grinning against his handiwork, he loved listening to his wife’s whimpers and sighs. Moving to leave and identical mark on the other side of her neck, his hands moved to knead and trace her breasts.

“Oh, _ Harry_,” Hermione moaned, writhing against him. Her hands fluttered against his sides and back, unsure whether to hold on or try to give back as good as he gave.

Sensing her trail of thoughts, Harry grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

“None of that,” he insisted. “I’m apologizing, remember? Now be a good girl and leave your hands there while I kiss it better.”

Desperate for him to pick up his pace by this point, Hermione gripped the pillow behind her head and spread her knees further in invitation.

Staring down at his wife as she completely opened up for him, he felt a surge of overwhelming adoration. He leaned down to press his lips to hers, letting his hand trace down her body, eventually tracing his fingers against the curls at the apex of her thighs. Dipping lower into her heat, he groaned at the feeling of wetness he found.

“You’re absolutely drenched, baby. Is this all for me? You want me to eat you out?”

At her whimper in approval, he lowered his head. Kissing a searing path from her lips down to her throat, he made sure to lick, suck, and kiss every inch of her breasts. He delighted in taking a few moments to suck and nibble at her sensitive nipples, making her keen. Once she was panting and pleading for him, he moved to settle between her legs. Pressing his lips to her lower stomach, his tongue flicked out and traced her navel. 

“Am I getting any closer, love?” He asked as he lifted her thighs to rest her legs over his shoulders. “Is this where I’m supposed to kiss you to make it better?”

Hermione’s heart was racing so much, all she could do was nod emphatically as she babbled incoherently for him to “eat her up.”

Using his fingers to split her lips, Harry flattened his tongue over her core and dragged it up to trace around her clit without hitting it directly. He wanted to ramp up her desire until she was nearly feral for him. Using only the tip of his tongue, he lightly pressed against her center, barely entering her, before following his previous path around her sensitive bud again.

Unable to do anything more than whimper and buck against him, Hermione ground her hips to seek more friction. Seeing her nearing her limit, he speared his tongue into her core, eagerly lapping up all of the juices she let forth. At her desperate cry, he moved to cover her sensitive bundle of nerves with his mouth and sucked. Hard.

Hermione keened as she bucked and rode his face, desperately seeking release. To her chagrin, he pulled away just as she reached the precipice she’d been racing towards.

“Please,” she begged desperately. “Harry, baby. Don’t stop!”

“I’m just joining you, love.” Harry propped himself over her and slowly pushed himself into her dripping sex. "Merlin, you're tight," he grunted as he completely filled her with every inch of his shaft.

Giving her a minute to adjust to the intrusion — no matter how familiar it was to her — he moaned loudly when she rolled her hips to signal it was okay to move. Rolling his own hips back, he lost his mind at the feeling of her channel gripping him tightly. “Fuck, babe.”

“That’s the idea, Harry,” she encouraged breathlessly. “Fuck me. _ Hard_.”

He started pounding into her at a relentless pace, filling her completely each time before pulling out. Moaning with her, Harry reached down to pull her legs over his shoulders so he could angle himself even deeper.

Hermione gasped loudly and arched her back at the sensation of Harry hitting her G-spot. “Oh, Morgana! That feels so _ good_!”

Harry pulled out and flipped Hermione onto her hands and knees, quickly impaling her on his cock again. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drove into her harder, demanding her constant stream of moans and babbles transform into screams of pleasure. 

When she fell into her first orgasm, Harry nearly came at the feeling of her fluttering around him. He slowed down to give her a chance to recover from her high, desperately suppressing his own orgasm in the hopes of making her come again first.

Sighing in contentment as she floated down from ‘cloud O’, Hermione’s breath caught when she felt Harry start moving again, still hard inside her.

“You didn’t come?” She gasped as he plunged into her roughly.

Pulling her up against his chest, Harry shook his head against her shoulder. Moving her arms behind her, she embraced his neck to try and keep herself upright, as she felt her next orgasm quickly approaching. Grinding back against his thrusts, Hermione moaned wantonly as his hands plucked at her nipples before sliding south to pinch and rub on her clit.

“Harry,” she whimpered, feeling herself teetering on the edge. “I’m so… so close...”

Harry pistoned in and out of her quivering core, chasing both of their releases. Hermione exploded around him as her orgasm briefly blinded her in its intensity. Harry joined her a few thrusts later from the feeling of her drenched core rippling around him. Determined to impregnate his wife, he buried himself in her one last time, holding her close as he poured his seed deep into her womb. 

When they both came to from their release, Harry could tell Hermione was about to collapse. Gently lowering her body so she was lying down, he moved to fetch the blankets from the floor, where they’d been kicked off at one point in their passion. Curling himself around his wife, he covered them gently.

“You think it’ll take?” She asked in a whisper as she turned around to face him. Grinning confidently, he leaned forward to kiss her. Obviously half-asleep now, Hermione kissed him back lazily.

“I’m positive that made us a new little one,” he promised with a laugh. “But, I’ll never be opposed to trying again. Just to be certain, you understand?”

Hermione chuckled sleepily. “Married for ten years and you still take such good care of me.”

Harry laughed and snuggled them deeper, feeling a deep sense of peace and contentment as they both let sleep take them under.

Sitting prominently on their bedside table was a once hidden, but now cherished, old photograph of a young couple sharing a glass of wine in the vineyards of Italy.


End file.
